kifinally

[kifinally]

I.N for the 2024 Digital Cover of DAZED Korea..

[kifinally]

Serendipity | Chapter Sixteen

Link to Chapter index here

Pairing : Jimin x afab! reader

Summary : In Paris, Y/N meets Jimin, a free-spirited traveller. Their love blossoms, but Jimin suddenly vanishes. Heartbroken, Y/N returns to Seoul and becomes a fashion writer. Fate twists as Jimin reappears as her demanding boss. Y/N must navigate their past, uncover the truth, and decide if she can trust him again.

Genre : slow burn, angsty, CEO Boss Jimin au

Word Count : 3.3k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

You turn your gaze toward him, your concern sharpening as you notice his appearance. The colour has drained from his face, leaving his complexion pallid and stark against the warm studio lighting.

A faint sheen of sweat beads on his brow, catching the light as it trickles down the side of his temple, betraying his outwardly stoic expression. There’s something off in the way he holds himself—his shoulders stiff, his posture rigid like he’s trying too hard to keep it together.

“Do you need to stop?” you ask softly, your tone laced with genuine concern. “You don’t look so good.”

"My brother is fine,” a deep, smooth voice interjects from behind Jungkook, cutting through the studio chatter with calm authority.

The shift is immediate; heads turn toward the source of the interruption, curiosity rippling through the room.

A tall man steps forward, his polished appearance and effortless poise capturing attention as though he was born to command it.

Everything about him, his tailored suit, the confident set of his broad shoulders, the easy way he carries himself, exudes an understated elegance that leaves the room momentarily still.

His dark hair, styled with just the right amount of carelessness to seem natural, frames a face that could rival the most celebrated models.

High cheekbones and a sharply defined jawline give his features a striking elegance, while his almond-shaped eyes hold a quiet, penetrating intensity, making you feel as if he sees more than he lets on.

“Jin,” Jimin says, his typically reserved expression softening into something rare and unguarded.

A genuine smile spreads across his face, brightening his features in a way that catches even you off guard. The aloofness that usually surrounds him seems to dissolve, replaced by an unmistakable warmth.

Jimin moves toward his brother with purposeful strides, his professionalism still intact but layered with a quiet fondness. “It’s been a while,” he says, his tone even but laced with affection.

Jin’s answering smile is every bit as warm, his voice steady and rich with familiarity. “Hello, little brother,” he replies, pulling Jimin into a firm hug that speaks volumes of their bond without the need for words.

"When did you get back?" Jimin asks, his voice betraying a hint of disbelief. Though his usual aloofness shields most of his emotions, there’s an undeniable softness in the way he regards his older brother.

Jin chuckles lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that disarming way only he seems to master. "Just this morning," he replies, his tone casual but warm, every word laced with familiarity. "Thought I'd surprise you."

He steps closer to Jimin, lowering his voice so only his brother can hear. "Just say the word, and we can get you out of here," he offers, his tone carrying the unspoken promise of unwavering support.

The protectiveness in his gaze is unmistakable, a bond that’s been fortified over the years, despite the distance life often placed between them.

Jimin hesitates, his lips pressing together as if searching for the right response.

The tension in his shoulders betrays the inner conflict between his obligations and the pull of his brother’s concern. "I can’t," he finally says, the resignation in his voice palpable. "I have to stay and finish up."

Jungkook, who had been lingering at a respectful distance, finally steps forward, his boyish grin attempting to cut through the tension. "Hyung, it’s fine," he assures, his voice light but sincere. "We’ve got all the shots we need. You should take a break."

Jimin’s brow furrows as he briefly glances at the camera, then at the flurry of activity on set. He seems to be weighing the decision as if stepping away might somehow derail everything.

Finally, his gaze lands on you, his expression softening just enough to reveal the weariness beneath. "Can you go over the shots with Jungkook?" he asks, his tone quieter now, almost unsure.

You nod, keeping your expression calm and your tone professional, but your gaze lingers on Jimin and Jin for a fraction longer than it should.

Seeing a member of Jimin’s family for the first time stirs something unspoken within you, a mix of emotions you quickly suppress after all, this was Haneul’s uncle.

"Of course, sir," you reply, your voice steady, even as a quiet storm of thoughts brews beneath your composed exterior.

As Jimin retreats with Jin, mentioning the car waiting for you and Jungkook, a knot of unease settles in your chest.

Jungkook sidles up beside you, his ever-curious nature surfacing. "I didn’t know Jimin had a brother," he remarks, his gaze tracking the retreating siblings. "Is he, like, a model or something? He’s ridiculously good-looking."

You let out a soft laugh, the sound lighter than your mood. "Umm no...he's a lawyer in the States." you say softly, recalling the times Jimin had spoken fondly of his brother as you'd cuddled up in bed.

---

The bar was dimly lit, a warm amber glow from old sconces flickering against the wood-panelled walls. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the air.

Jin leaned back against the worn leather booth, one arm stretched casually along the top, a half-empty pint glass in his other hand. He watched Jimin carefully, his expression relaxed but his dark eyes sharp, like he was waiting for the exact moment to strike

“So,” Jin said, swirling his drink lazily, “are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Jimin flinched slightly, caught off guard by the directness. He toyed with the edge of his glass, his fingers tracing the condensation absently.

“What do you mean?” he replied, forcing a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was light, but there was a crack in the façade, like a dam barely holding back a flood.

Jin didn’t buy it. He tilted his head, studying Jimin with that infuriating, knowing look he always had, the one that said, I see through you, so don’t even try.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jin said, setting his glass down with a soft thud. “You’re not yourself, as I walked in, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the worn wooden table between them. He pressed his lips into a thin line and took a long sip of his drink, as if stalling would make Jin lose interest. It didn’t. Jin just waited, unmoving, his patience as unyielding as his gaze.

Finally, Jimin exhaled heavily, leaning back against the booth. He raked a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the way his fingers lingered at the crown of his head. “It’s stupid,” he muttered, more to himself than Jin. “It’s probably nothing.”

Jin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I know that line, and I know when you’re lying. I’m your hyung. You can talk to me.”

For a moment, Jimin didn’t respond. His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight as he wrestled with whatever was on his mind. Finally, he exhaled heavily, his hands falling to his lap. “Fine,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… something weird happened today.”

Jin tilted his head slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Weird how?”

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. “During the shoot, one of the staff was wearing a perfume, which I caught scent of when she moved. And… I don’t know. It was like… like I knew it. Like I’d smelled it before. But I couldn’t figure out why.”

Jin’s brow furrowed as he listened, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Okay. And?”

“And it… it triggered something,” Jimin said, his voice faltering. “Not a memory, exactly. More like a… a feeling. Like I was on the edge of remembering something, but every time I tried to grab it, it slipped away. Like trying to catch smoke.”

Jin leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You think it’s something from before? Before the accident?

Jimin nodded slowly, his eyes darting to the table again. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just… frustrating. I hate this, hyung. I hate not knowing who I was in those few months. Everyone keeps telling me stories, showing me pictures, but it’s not the same. None of it feels real. And when something like this happens, it just… reminds me of how much I’ve lost.”

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” Jin said gently. “But you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Jimin shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “But what if I never figure it out? What if the memories never come back? I’ll always just be this… this hollow version of myself.”

“Hey,” Jin said firmly. “You’re not hollow. You’re still you, even if you don’t remember everything. And memories have a funny way of coming back when you least expect them. Smell is powerful, it’s tied directly to the parts of your brain that process memory and emotion. Maybe this is your brain’s way of trying to piece things together.”

Jimin sighed, slumping further into his seat. “That’s the problem, though. It’s like my brain is trying, but it’s stuck. Like there’s a wall, and no matter how hard I push, I can’t break through it.”

Jin leaned back, his expression softening. “Then maybe you don’t need to push. Maybe you just need time.”

“Yeah. Thanks, hyung,” Jimin said quietly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Jin raised his glass, grinning. “Anytime. Now, drink your damn beer before it gets warm.”

---

Later that evening, Jimin sat alone in his penthouse, the weight of the day pressing down on him. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, the amber liquid catching the soft glow of the city lights outside.

The faint hum of a jazz melody filled the room, its smooth rhythms offering some comfort, but his mind refused to settle.

He stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cool breeze hit his face. The air was crisp, tousling his hair as he looked out at the Han River, its surface catching the light from the city.

His thoughts wandered back to the photoshoot earlier, to that strange moment when the scent of a perfume had hit him. It was so familiar, like something buried deep in his past, but just out of reach. For a second, it felt like he knew it well.

That fleeting feeling had been so sharp, so vivid, it was as if a door had cracked open in his mind, but it slammed shut just as quickly, leaving him with nothing but confusion.

Jimin took another sip of his whiskey, the warmth spreading through him, but it did little to calm the storm inside. The lights of the city twinkled in the distance, far away, beautiful, but distant, like something he couldn’t reach, no matter how hard he tried.

He stared out at them, his chest tight, lost in the confusion of a memory that wasn’t quite his own.

-

Jimin was transported to a dreamscape, an enchanting city that seemed both foreign and familiar. The air was thick with vibrant energy, the streets alive with laughter and the soft glow of streetlights reflecting off cobblestone paths.

Beside him walked a woman, her features blurred, shrouded in the playful dance of shadows. Yet, even in her obscurity, he felt an undeniable connection to her, a love so deep it sent a pang of longing through his heart.

Their laughter mingled with the hum of the evening, soft and intimate, like shared secrets between old lovers. She spoke to him in a voice that sent a gentle shiver down his spine, her words laced with tenderness.

"I love you, Jimin."

He simply whispered, “I love you too, kitten,” the words slipping out like a promise, full of warmth and devotion.

Jimin’s eyes snapped open, his breath jagged and fast. His heart pounded in his chest, his whole body trembling as if the dream still clung to him.

The room was dark, the shadows long and heavy. He was alone. But the quiet was shattered by something, soft, broken sobs, filling the stillness around him.

Confused, his eyes adjusted to the dim light, trying to piece together where he was.

The dream was already slipping away from his grasp, but the emotions still lingered, thick and suffocating. He reached up to touch his face, feeling the dampness there.

It wasn’t until his fingers brushed against his skin that he realised the sobbing wasn’t coming from anywhere else. It was his sobs. His tears.

Jimin sat up, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the weight of the dream. It felt too vivid, too real, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. It was just a random dream, he told himself.

Maybe it was his mind trying to make sense of everything that had happened earlier that day. The stress, the confusion, hell, maybe it was just the late hour messing with him.

He sighed, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, blinking at the bright screen as if trying to reset himself.

"Just a dream," he muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself. The face, the connection, the warmth, it didn’t matter. It was nothing more than a fleeting thought from an exhausted mind.

He leaned back against the headboard, rubbing his eyes. Focus, he thought. He didn’t need to dwell on something that didn’t make sense.

There was no reason to be lost in a dream, not when real life demanded his attention.

--

The next evening found you deep in work, the steady hum of the office filling the quiet room as you meticulously reviewed photographs from the recent shoot, eyes scanning each detail.

You flipped through the interview transcripts, making notes, your focus absolute. The hours had slipped by unnoticed, the clock on the wall now reading 6:45 PM, a reminder that time was getting away from you.

Jimin, his own eyes tired from the day’s work, glanced up from his own pile of tasks. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, then he asked, his voice soft but thoughtful, "Do you need to get home for Haneul?"

The mention of your son made your heart skip, the sudden reminder of him pulling you from your work. You chewed nervously on your lip for a moment before offering a small, reassuring smile. "No, it's okay. My best friend has him tonight."

Jimin’s gaze lingered on you, just long enough to make you feel his scrutiny. There was an almost imperceptible furrow in his brow, a quiet concern that seemed out of place. "Are you sure? We might be here late."

You nodded, trying to brush off his concern, though it was nice of him to ask. "It's fine, really. I don’t mind staying a little longer."

Before he could say anything else, a loud growl from Jimin’s stomach broke the moment, a sound that was unmistakable in the quiet room. His eyes flicked to the side, an awkward laugh escaping him.

"Ah," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips, "guess we should order something. I’m starving."

You laughed softly, the tension between you easing a little. "I thought you were the one telling me to go home," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jimin gave a lazy smirk, leaning back in his chair. His usual cool, detached attitude was still there, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I’m not saying you should go home," he replied, his voice dry but with a hint of warmth. "But I might need some food to survive this evening."

As you both settled into a waiting lull, the silence between you wasn’t quite as tense. You returned to your work, flipping through more photos, selecting the ones that would make it into the article.

Jimin reached for one of the pictures you had taken, glancing at it for a moment before meeting your eyes. There was a softness in his gaze, an unspoken approval that made you pause.

"This one’s good," he said, his lips curling into a faint, genuine smile.

You looked at the photo, then back at him. "We’re supposed to be looking at your photos, not mine," you replied, teasing him lightly.

Jimin didn’t break his gaze, a small smirk on his face. "I know, but you look good in this one," he said casually, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

The compliment caught you off guard. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Your heart gave a sudden jolt, a small flutter of warmth spreading through you, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "Thanks you sir" you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Jimin noticed your discomfort almost instantly. He cleared his throat and looked down at the photo in his hands, as if to give you some space. "Sorry," he said, the words coming out more sincerely than you expected. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just think you’d make a great model."

You blinked, still feeling the warmth on your cheeks. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the compliment, but you weren’t sure how to handle it. You shrugged, trying to hide the self-consciousness creeping up on you. "I’m just not good with compliments," you admitted, your voice quiet.

Jimin’s lips curled into a small, understanding smile. He leaned back in his chair, the usual coolness in his expression softening just a touch. "Guess that makes two of us," he said, his voice a little lighter, almost as if he could relate.

At that moment, the much-anticipated food arrived, and Jimin’s face lit up as if it were a personal victory. "Ah, great, let’s eat," he said, gesturing for you to help yourself. There was something about his expression, genuine excitement over something as simple as dinne, that made you smile.

You both dug in, the conversation flowing more easily now that the pressure had lifted. Between bites, Jimin leaned back slightly, his chopsticks hovering in mid-air. "So, tell me more about yourself."

You paused, setting your chopsticks down on the table, a little surprised by the question. It was rare for him to ask anything personal. "Ah, there's not much to tell," you replied with a casual shrug, trying to downplay the weight of it all. "I'm a mother, and I work for you," you added, almost as if those two things summed up your entire existence.

Jimin didn’t buy it. He leaned in just slightly, his eyes narrowing in that way they did when something intrigued him. "Aish, you're more than just those things," he said with a soft laugh, his tone light but sincere. "How did you end up in Paris?"

The mention of Paris made your chest tighten, you swallow your food harshly.

"Well," you began, choosing your words carefully, "I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life at the time, but I wanted to experience a different culture."

Jimin nodded, chewing thoughtfully as he listened, but you could tell the curiosity had shifted into something deeper. "Interesting," he remarked, placing another bite of food into his mouth, savouring it.

There was something about the way he seemed to absorb every word that made you feel like he wasn’t just asking for the sake of making conversation. He was genuinely interested.

"So, you got a job at a French magazine with no experience?" Jimin’s brow arched, his voice betraying a hint of genuine admiration. He set down his chopsticks, clearly more engaged now. "That’s impressive."

You grinned, your pride evident in the way your eyes lit up. "Yup, I was tenacious," you said, your tone playful, but there was a confidence behind it that made the story feel alive. "I loved Paris, and the fashion there… it’s a whole different ball game."

Jimin was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on you with an intensity that caught you off guard.

The corner of his lips twitched upward as if something about your words had genuinely resonated with him. Then, without thinking, he muttered under his breath, "Pretty."

---

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[kifinally]

CLOSER

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.9k

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

"God, you actually made a slideshow?"

"You literally asked me for this," you groaned, "Now, stop talking and pay attention."

"This slideshow looks like shit. How are you even graduating?", he couldn't help but add.

"Anyways," you hissed back at him, "This is a step by step of what the plan is, okay? We'll go slide by slide."

He nodded, amused but also having given up on arguing.

The first slide showcased simple text detailing the following:

Step 1 - Kissing

He immediately burst out laughing.

"Stop!", you swatted the pointer you'd been using to point at the screen at him, "Let me talk before you laugh!", you demanded.

"Is 'removing our clothes' going to be on the slides too?", he laughed, holding onto his stomach from what apparently seemed to be the funniest thing to him.

"Moving on," you ignored him, clearing your throat and beginning the short speech you had prepared, "I've kissed guys before, which you know. But kissing and kissing during sex are two very different things," you explained.

"How would you know?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking, you fucking-", you stopped yourself before you could insult him, knowing he was just riling you up.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You can move onto the next slide," he conceded, though you could still spot some amusement on his face.

Step 2 - Oral (both ways)

"How is me giving you oral going to help you learn to have sex if you're not doing anything?", he asked before you could even speak.

"Are you telling me you don't do oral? That's very Dj Khaled of you."

His eyes widened as he backtracked, "W-what? No! I love doing o- wait, no. I'm not talking about this," he stumbled over his words, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Plus, there's no need to teach you oral. Any guy would cum at you getting on your knees for them," he added without thinking, immediately shutting himself up upon realizing what he'd said.

Even from the place you were standing, and with the distance between you and the couch Wonwoo was sitting on, your reaction at his words could easily be noticed by him. You were both equally sheepish at his slipup, causing you to both look away in embarrassment.

"What I meant was-"

"No, uh, I get it, I-"

"Uh, maybe move onto the third slide?", he coughed out, clearing his throat.

"Yeah- yeah, sure."

Step 3 - Foreplay

"Okay, so you did add removing our clothes as a step."

"These are completely different things," you rebutted, having completely moved on from the previous awkwardness.

Suddenly, he stood up, taking your pointer from you and setting it down.

"Okay, you can stop with the slideshow," he said.

"Why? What's wrong with my slideshow?", you argued.

"Well, for one, it doesn't actually have any useful information in it. Two, these are all natural steps to sex that I don't need a recap on," he took a breath before continuing, "And three, I don't need any more convincing. I'll help you."

"What? Really?," you gaped at him.

He nodded, attempting to be nonchalant about it, "I mean, yeah. I was always going to help you, just needed to think it over a bit more. We're friends and I don't want you feeling lost on your first time, or getting taken advantage of by some asshole, so," he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, far too enthusiastic for the subject at hand, but mostly just thankful for his agreement.

"Thank you, Wonwoo. God, I was so nervous I'd have to find some random guy on tinder," you mumbled against his chest.

Tenderly hugging you back, he hummed at your statement, slightly annoyed at the implication of some random guy taking your virginity, but not verbally expressing that annoyance.

"When do you want to do it?", he asked once you'd pulled away.

"Is, uh, is Wednesday okay? I know you only have Tuesday-Thursday classes this semester," you offered.

"Yeah, that's good. Do you want to do it all at once or-"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, not wanting to say the words, as the thought of it was already getting to him. He gulped silently before continuing, "I mean the, uh, oral and the kissing, and whatever else you had on that slideshow."

"Oh! Uh, well, what do you think? Should we just do it all at once?" you asked with a newfound innocence in your eyes.

It occurred to Wonwoo that you might have been even far more inexperienced than he had first thought. This was something you'd never spoken about too in depth, but now that he really thought about it, maybe the reason why your slideshow was so simple and childish had been because of a genuine lack of knowledge in the matter. Now he wasn't sure whether he should simply sleep with you or actually show you every step necessary to ensure your pleasure and his own.

"We can take a day for oral and hand stuff," he huffed out, "and then we can use that new knowledge for foreplay before we, you know."

He felt like the virgin at his lack of ability to utter the word sex under this context.

"A-ah, okay. That sounds good," you blinked up at him, "What about ... Uh, what about kissing?", you added shyly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. Never mind," you created some extra distance between you, timidly looking down in embarrassment at your question.

It made Wonwoo feel like shit that his simple question had made you ashamed at having asked one of your own. He needed to resolve this quickly. Sex was clearly a sore subject for you, he didn't want his teasing to actually make you feel badly.

"No, tell me. Please," he grabbed onto your arm so you'd look at him again.

"Well, I- Fuck, this is so embarrassing," you chuckled humorlessly at yourself before finally looking back at him, "I've never been kissed like that before. I was, uh, hoping that you could teach me? So I know what to do then we actually, you know."

Similarly to him, you were too shy to actually speak the word out loud, though you both knew exactly what you meant. The heavy air in the room only confirmed it.

"Oh," he breathed out, "I can ... teach you now, if you want."

The word 'teach' had him feeling lightheaded. Thinking about directing you, holding you close to him as he took his time showing you everything he liked – everything that would have him thinking of you every lonely night after the fact – as you obediently nodded under him, it all made an animalistic feeling arise within him.

"Yeah? Okay, how do we-", you began, nodding as you eyed the room to see where would be the best place to do it.

Wonwoo stopped you before you could actually wander off, holding onto your elbows and pulling you to him. They naturally slid down to your hips to position you against him.

"Here is fine."

Those were his last words before his lips descended onto your own, eyes so hooded they were almost fully closed. The kiss was very soft in nature, with it being almost just a simple peck before he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

"You've been kissed like that before. Right?", he mumbled.

You nodded, head tilting upwards as you shyly attempted to incite him into reconnecting your lips.

"I'm going to show you how you should kiss a guy if you want him to ... you know," he explained, breathing heavily into your mouth at the mere thought.

Barely managing to nod again, your lips were encapsulated by his own once more, this time engaging in a wet kiss, mouth immediately invaded by his tongue.

In retrospect, Wonwoo made the kiss more sensual than he intended to. There was an extra layer of intimacy than he would usually allow when he kissed someone he considered a mere hookup. But how could he kiss you like he would a hookup when you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable as you stared up at him? Having to hold back a gruttal groan as he kissed you, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips to center himself a bit.

At some point your tongue shyly came out to play with his own, making a timid attempt of mirroring his movements. The kiss became slightly messy, but that's just how Wonwoo liked it, causing a few muted grunts to sound out into the otherwise quiet room.

Wonwoo's hands came up to your jaw, angling your face in a way that would allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue at the optimal angle, suckling into your own and drawing pretty whines out of you. It was easy for him to tell that you were becoming affected by the mere kisses, making his mind fuzzy in return.

He could only hold on so much before he began walking you back, eventually landing against a wall and pressing you up into it, hands going back down to your waist to press your body up against his own. The atmosphere of the room became heavier, just as his movements. Hands gripped your waist and your chests pressed together. Your back arched deliciously as one of his hands landed on the small of your back, making your breasts rub against his hard chest.

A groan involuntarily slipped out of Wonwoo's lips at the feeling of your pebbled nipples digging at his chest. Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra.

In the meantime, your hands pulled at Wonwoo's hair, becoming rasher in their movements by the minute. You fed off Wonwoo's reactions to the pulling of his hair, pulling extra hard any time he grumbled into your lips a little louder.

His hands remained in the same general area of your waist and lower back up until one of them braved their way down to your thigh, going as far down as the back of your knee to wrap your leg around his waist, causing your crotches to make the first contact of the night.

Gasping a shuddered breath, Wonwoo disconnected your lips and began kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at spots he had a feeling would have you gasping his name. This, accompanied by a hesitant grind of his hips into your own, awarded him the prettiest gasps landing against his ear.

"Wonwoo ..." you sighed, "Is this- Am I doing a good job?" you asked, tilting your head back to nudge his lips against your own again, landing some soft yet wet pecks on his lips.

"So good," he nodded with a kiss, "Such a quick learner," were his last words before starting another long series of languid kisses between you.

Hips became braver, – both yours and his – filling the room with the sounds of clothes ruffling and muffled sighs in between wet swipes of your tongues. His large hand angled your leg even higher, angling his cock right against your cunt in a way that had you breaking the kiss as you gasped his name. Wonwoo did not allow you to pull away, however, simply opting to lick into your open mouth and entice you into continuing the kiss.

"Wonwoo, I can't, I- Fuck, I need-"

"Shhh," he hushed you, "I know, baby. Just keep moving your hips, okay? Let me show you all my favorite things," he whispered against your skin, not daring to halt the friction that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants.

"Is this- Is this what you usually do when you kiss a girl?", you asked, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck to his heart's contentment.

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, knowing he never let passion take over him so quickly with any other girl. He let his lips trail back to your own in order to prevent himself from having to speak further, but also because he couldn't stray away from you for too long.

He was sure he'd never forget those soft breaths you left against his lips any time he'd reconnect them, wordlessly expressing how affected you were by what he considered to be such a small gesture – or at least what he previously thought it to be, up until he kissed his best friend on an arbitrary Saturday morning.

As badly as he wanted to keep your lips attached to his own, he was beginning to feel his self control slip through his fingers the more he humped against you. The more he did so, the less finesse his movements had, forcing him to bury his head on the crook of your neck and groan into your skin. His hands went down to your legs, starting to drag your hips against his own and freely grunting at the stimulation. His sweats and your shorts were both thin enough for him to feel the heat of your cunt, fully aware that if he looked down, he'd find a mixture of wetness on the cloth from his precum and your slickness.

"Fuck," he sighed, "You feel so fucking good ..."

"Am I, shit- am I making you feel good?", you managed to squeak out.

Wonwoo's mind melted at the way you sought out his approval, looking to see if you were making him feel as good as he did you. Were his pathetic moans not enough indicator of how godforsakenly affected by you he was?

Then he remembered you had no point of reference to understand how intimate and heated this moment was – how the dragging of his cock against your clothed folds could so easily become his undoing.

"You're doing so fucking good. Gonna make me cum, fuck," he breathed, making his way back to your lips, "Need you to cum for me first, though. Okay, pretty? Are you close for me?", he mumbled in between heated kisses.

"So close," you were barely able to respond due to Wonwoo's insistence on keeping his lips on yours.

"A guy should always make you cum first, understand? If- fucking shit," he grunted out when he felt you beginning to pulse against him, an entire separate heartbeat forming on your cunt, "If he doesn't, he's not worth it. You come first. Okay, baby? A-always you."

The mere thought of some other loser even hearing the cute, breathy gasps you were letting out made him fume, but he couldn't get into that while you were almost on the verge of breaking down for him. He needed you to at least know what type of guys to fend away from, but he also wanted to show you how he could give you exactly what a man should – that he would always prioritize you and your pleasure.

You nodded mindlessly, completely out of it yet absolutely absorbed by the pleasure, "I need- Fuck, Nonu ... I need to cum. Please, I-"

"Cum. Be good for me and cum, pretty. I'm right there ... Fuck, gonna make me cum in my pants," he wheezed out, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when your nails dug into his skin as your orgasm took over.

Wonwoo came the second he felt you come undone, having held back from far too long in order to prioritize you – something he would always do. A mixture of emotions took over as his body underwent the immense pleasure your clothed cunt had given him. A sense of pride undertook him at knowing he had made you cum undone completely untouched. Any shame he could've felt at cumming in his pants like a horny loser left him as he took in every gasp and cry of his name as you held against him for dear life.

Burying his head in your shoulder again, he whispered words of praise and encouragement into your ear all while his hips continued their canting against yours, damning any sensitivity he may have felt due to the overstimulation. His brain was fuzzy at the pleasure, but his instinctual need to make you feel as good as humanly possible overrode any other thought in his mind.

By the end of it all, all that could be heard were your heavy breaths. Holding onto each other, you forgot about anything surrounding the bubble you currently found yourselves in. Seeking your lips again, Wonwoo gave you one last languid kiss, humming into your lips in contentment at the thought of what had just happened.

"That's, uh, that's usually how kissing goes when you're going to have sex," he explained.

He suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed at how easily he had lost control at a simple touch of your lips. — He was supposed to merely kiss you, not defile you through your clothes against the wall of your apartment!

"Oh- Okay, that's good to know," you murmured whilst looking down at your feet timidly.

At least he wasn't alone in the feeling.

Finally creating some distance between you, he chuckled humorlessly, clearing his throat.

"Sorry if that was too much," he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No, that was perfect- I mean, thank you! No, wait, I mean, that's exactly what I needed- fuck," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment at being unable to find the right words.

It was mind-boggling how easy it was for you to provoke adoration out of Wonwoo when you had just been the primary source of his lust mere moments ago.

"It's okay, I understand," he went to remove your hands from your face, looking at you with a smile, "Do you still want to meet on Wednesday?", he asked sheepishly.

"For oral, you mean?", you asked so innocently, completely disregarding the implication behind those words.

Coughing out as air caught in his throat, he cleared his throat before being able to respond, "Y-yes, it's- it's whatever you want."

"Well ..." you started, "You don't have classes on Monday, right? Maybe we could do it then? You know, so we don't have to drag this out too long?"

Oh.

Was this just something you wanted to get over with?

That made sense, considering that this was all simply a favor you were asking from Wonwoo. That knowledge still didn't prevent Wonwoo from feeling let down by your words, however.

At the end of the day it didn't make that much of a difference when you did it, but he couldn't help but have this sick hope inside him to prolong this as much as possible; maybe even do repeat 'lessons' if necessary. Especially when he knew that the moment he actually slept with you, you'd go out into the world and find someone else to do the things he taught you with.

There was a reason he had originally been apprehensive about your proposal. He knew that the mere second he had your eyes staring up at his with anything more than platonic feelings in them, he'd fall even deeper for you–

Right, did he forget to mention he was in love with you?

It was a controllable crush. He knew how far his feelings could go, so he never tested his luck with you. He also had far too much love and respect for you as a friend to ever overstep any boundaries outside of the limits within your friendship. This was why he had been initially adamant about denying you. He knew that there was no way to keep his heart out of it, but he also knew that there was no way for him to resist such opportunity, which was why he ultimately said yes.

So for now he had to make the best of it.

Was it selfish? Maybe. But he would also be helping you out along the way, so maybe it was more of a selfless act in the end. He'd be the one getting his heart broken, after all.

"Yeah, sure. You can come over to my place on Monday," was his response.

"Might as well get this over with," had been what he added as an afterthought, not taking note of the emotion changing in your eyes.

"Hey."

Wonwoo attempted to adopt a casual demeanor as he welcomed you in, hoping you didn't take note of how much he had pampered himself in preparation for you (Maybe aftershave plus cologne had been a tad much).

"Hi, Nonu," you responded, clearly way more relaxed than he was.

It was almost as if he was the virgin about to get deflowered.

Walking in, you made yourself at home, walking past him and immediately sitting on his couch. It was common for you to be at his apartment, so this visit wasn't anything out of the ordinary thus far.

Up until you spoke up.

"I might've gone overboard with preparing myself for tonight," you suddenly said, grimacing at yourself in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

You were wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized top; very common outfit for you. Sure, you looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly what you meant by overly preparing yourself.

"You'll see," was all you said, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch.

Closing the door of his apartment, he walked over to you, taking a seat and facing you on the couch. Although he had sat at a slight distance from you, you had scoot over to him immediately, facing him as your knees graced against his own.

You smiled shyly at him, eyes not fully meeting his own as you seemingly tried to think of what to say.

"How- how should we start?", you finally asked.

Wonwoo took a breath, "What do you want me to show you today? Was last time helpful to you?"

"Yes!", you immediately responded, cringing at your own enthusiastic answer, "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like such a loser," you chuckled awkwardly, "But it did help me. I feel way less nervous about it all now."

"What's making you nervous?," he shuffled closer to you.

"Just ... You?", you started, "You're already so experienced and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you or ... not make you feel good," you mumbled the last few words.

That took Wonwoo for a loop. 'Not make him feel good'? Had you seen yourself? Had you seen him just two days ago? He was a mess of himself at the mere feeling of some amateur dry humping. He was the one who should be nervous at the thought of your finally seeing your open legs in front of his face.

He chuckled sheepishly at you, "There's no way you could ever make me not feel good. I don't know if you want to hear this from me, but, you're so fucking gorgeous. Any guy, and I mean any, would kill if you gave them the time of day. You don't even need any of this 'training,'" he said with air-quotes, "There would probably be a line full of guys itching to get a chance to be with you; to take your virginity," he ranted, knowing he was doing himself a disservice in vying for other guys, but needing you to know how impossible it'd be for you to embarrass yourself when you were so you; so seductive and mind-boggling without even realizing it.

"Oh," you breathed out at his praise, clearing your throat right after to recover, "But I only trust you," you said, putting your hands on his, "I only care what you think and how you ... how you teach me," your eyes looked into his, wide and innocent.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you anything you want," he swallowed a deep breath, breathing through his nose, "Do you ... Do you want to start with what I taught you the other day?", he decided to get the ball rolling.

You nodded silently, surprising him when you suddenly went to straddle on his lap, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down slowly, placing your lips on his.

The two of you hadn't discussed yet what exactly you'd be doing today, but getting your lips on his seemed like a necessity for Wonwoo at this moment in time. It was the most important thing to him with the current fogginess in his mind.

The kiss became heated quickly. It seemed like you had some trouble building up the tension and instead gave the kiss your all right away. Either that, or you simply felt equally as affected as Wonwoo and needed to portray that through your kiss as soon as possible. That might've been wishful thinking, but Wonwoo kept his hopes up.

His large hands wrapped around you, holding onto your ass and gasping when he felt you begin to move, digging his nails into your plush hips to guide you. It was all happening too fast, but he had no complaints. Not when you were somehow grinding so expertly against him all while breathing the cutest sighs into his mouth.

"Like this? Is it like this, Wonwoo?", you asked into his mouth, whining when he decided to lick at your tongue as you spoke.

"Yes ... Such a fast learner. So fucking good," he breathed, dragging your hips against his own.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled you closer, planting his feet on the ground and matching your movements. Your leggings and his basketball shorts were thin enough for him to pretend they weren't there, feeling all the heat you were forming between your bodies and groaning at the friction.

Wonwoo suddenly gasped into your mouth when he felt an intrusion between you, only taking him a moment to realize that your hand had snuck down and began feeling him up to find his cock, slowly halting your movements. He let you fully slow down, groaning when your hand enveloped him through his shorts.

"Will you teach me how to make you feel good? Want you to make you cum with my hands, Nonu," you murmured between wet kisses.

He went to heaven and came right back at your words. Your voice was so shy yet so sensual, making his brain override with lust. He had to take a few moments to answer, or else he would've only been able to offer you a pathetic whimper as an response.

Despite having slept with many girls before, having almost each of them put their hands on his cock just as you were doing, none ever made him feel so desperate and depraved. Neither did they cause the warmth in his chest the same way you did.

"Anything you want," he mumbled, head completely empty, "Let me- let me take off my pants, okay, pretty?"

You moved to the side for a moment, allowing him to remove his pants and boxers as you watched with your bottom lipped trapped between your teeth. He could've sworn he heard you sigh when his cock was finally out in the open, but there was no way to confirm it.

"Shirt too?", you requested, staring at him with eyes he just couldn't deny.

Throwing it off, he immediately pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips again and again. You kept whining into his lips, hands coming to his chest to feel him up, crying out into his lips any time you'd make contact with hard muscle.

Wonwoo knew you liked his physique, – you'd told him so many times before – but having you be so affected by his body had him on a high. This would only feed into him and cause him to go even harder at it next time he hit the gym. Bulking up out of his own volition suddenly went down on his list of priorities, being dethroned by a need to have you needily feel him up just as you currently were.

Next thing he knew, your hand went from his chest, down to his abs, landing on his aching dick.

"It's so big ... Is it supposed to be this big?", you asked against his lips, a petulant tone in your voice.

There was no way you didn't know what you were doing. Was there? Were you really so fucking inexperienced and pliant for him? Or were you simply trying to put his restraint to the test?

One look into your eyes responded those questions for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and there was a look of wonder in your face. You seemed worried about his size, but also ditzy with desire for him – just like he was for you.

"It's okay ... Just, just wrap your hands around it, yeah? I'll take you from there," he instructed, pecking your lips once for reassurance, "Y-yeah, just like t-that, fuck ..." he huffed, "Now ... just twist- yeah, fuck, that's it ..."

"Like this?", you asked, wide eyed and pouty, jerking him off almost perfectly. You were shy in your movements, but you were still causing Wonwoo to lose track of how to breathe properly.

"Yes, that's so good, shit. You're doing so good ..."

Suddenly, your other hand went down to his balls, toying at them shyly, gasping when you took notice of Wonwoo's chocked-out breath.

"Sorry! Was that-"

"Do it again ... Fuck, do that again," he grumbled, attempting to keep his voice low.

Silently, you followed his instruction, continuing to use both hands to jerk him off and play with his balls. You bit your lip, giving him Wonwoo a look of unadulterated lust he had never seen from you. His best option at that moment was to close his eyes and lean his head back against the back of the couch. If not, he'd be forced to watch you and further lose his mind.

Only a few moments later, Wonwoo felt a sudden wetness against his nipple, making him hiss. You had brought your head down to his chest, lips kitten-licking at his nipple, teeth occasionally scraping it when you took notice of his shuddered breaths at the action. You were making Wonwoo a complete mess of himself, and he had no ability to stop you – you were taking over all his senses.

"Baby ... You're gonna m-make me cum. Being so fucking good for me," he sighed, "Such a good fucking girl," the thought was rotting his mind. You were being so fucking good for him; making him feel good. No one had ever felt your touch in such a way, only him.

"Nonu, please cum ... I'm so fucking wet, I need you so bad," you whined into his chest, "Need you to show me how you'd make me feel good," you added as an afterthought. Wonwoo knew lust was taking over you, and it exhilarated him.

"Cumming, f-fuck," he had completely blanked on getting something to cover himself with when he finally came, which was why it came to his surprise when you brought down your lips to the head of his cock, wrapping them around it and softly sucking as he emptied himself out.

"Fuck, so good- so fucking good. Pretty girl so fucking obedient and, and good for me, f-fuck. Don't even have to tell you to- to lick me clean. Making me lose my mind ..." he rambled, eyes rolling back at both the feeling and sight of you sucking his dick throughout the entirety of his orgasm.

Having emptied himself out, you took him out of your mouth, using your fingers to wipe at any leftover cum on the side of your lips and licking them clean. Wonwoo could not stand that image for too long, dragging you in for a sad excuse of a kiss that mostly consisted of his tongue sucking at your own, attempting to steal his taste from your mouth. Sighing into his lips, you somehow ended up on his lap again, hips immediately grinding against his sensitive cock.

He couldn't bring himself to care about how sensitive he felt when you were so visibly desperate for that friction, dragging your hips into his slowly-hardening cock, positioning yourself so you'd rub right against your walls.

Sadly, the feeling soon became too much, leading to Wonwoo pulling away despite your whines in defiance, "Need you to lay back on the couch, okay, pretty? Gonna take care of you now," he whispered into your lips.

You stopped whining and nodded, sitting back against the couch as he got up, now being the one to straddle you, though not putting any of his weight on you.

His hands ran up and down your body, trying to assess where to start. There were so many fantasies running through his mind, and not enough self control to enact every single one.

"Can I undress you?"

Nodding, you began doing it yourself, only to be stopped by him.

"The guy should be the one undressing you, okay, baby? He should take care of you in every way," he added, "I should've made you cum first today, but you insisted I teach you how to get me off," he tsk'd lightheartedly at you, almost as if scolding you for having caught him off guard, "But I'll make it up to you."

You giggled, "Okay, Nonu. I'll let you take care of me first next time," you agreed.

Next time. God, did he have plans for next time.

His hands made their way to your shirt, lifting it up as you raised your arms to assist him. His original plan was to move onto your pants immediately, leaving you in just your underwear all at once, but the sight under your shirt distracted him too much to even remember his name.

Seeing each other today for this reason had been a last minute plan, so Wonwoo was entirely unprepared for what was sitting right in front of him. He attempted to speak a few times, but just ended up closing his mouth right after, eventually leading you into a shy giggle at how dumb he must've appeared.

"Do you like it?," you bit your lip shyly, "I told you I might've over-prepared ..."

Sitting in front of him, you were currently donning the prettiest little sheer bra, accompanied by embroidered flowers on the cups, but still allowing him prime view of your nipples through the fabric. The color of the sheer piece suited you perfectly, making your nipples peak through in a way that had his eyes glued to your chest.

You had picked out some pretty lingerie ... just for him. Now he not only had to deal with the sight, but also the thought of you dolling yourself up just for him.

After a few moments of his silence, you called him out, making him snap out of his thirst.

"Fuck, is it too much? I thought- I thought you'd appreciate if I wore something pretty for you," you mumbled, shifting awkwardly at his lack of reaction, wrongly assuming that he was put off.

Fuck, did he have to be such an idiot? Why was he acting like he'd never seen breasts or lingerie before? You made him feel like he was an inexperienced virgin who was looking up tits online for the first time.

"No! Fuck, no, that's not it at all," his hands went to your cheeks, making your eye line match his, "You just surprised me, that's all," he took a breath, "You look insanely gorgeous, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

He closed the gap between you temporarily, gifting you a few pecks as he responded, "Please tell me it's a matching set," he pleaded into your mouth.

Your demeanor changed, giggling at him and shrugging with a bite of your lip, "Why don't you check?"

Determined, he helped you lift your hips as he dragged your leggings off, being rewarded with the sight of equally sheer panties, the almost transparent fabric giving him optimal view of your cunt, which was already glistening with your wetness.

"Do you want-"

Wonwoo would never know what you were going to ask, as he suddenly trapped you in a kiss, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you to lean against the back of the couch. Sighing into his lips, you followed his rhythm, letting out tiny moans when his hands went down to toy with your tits, rubbing and pinching at your nipples through your bra.

Whining and crying into his lips, you took over every single one of his senses. You were too perfect for him, making feel genuine distress at how badly he wanted you.

His hand slowly headed south, finding its way to your cunt, fingers beginning to rub at you through the fabric. Your desperate hips matched his movements, grinding into his hand as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every plea of his name.

"Ever touched yourself before, pretty?", he whispered.

Shaking your head, your cheeks warmed up, "N-never knew how. Never felt good," you murmured almost too low for him to hear.

This almost halted his movements, but he didn't want to risk your embarrassment growing over it, so he simply let his fingers go past the barrier of your panties, now rubbing you directly, though not penetrating your walls just yet. He wanted to hear more from you.

"No?", he coo'd, keeping his cool, "Have you- have you ever orgasmed?"

You took a short pause, kissing at his cheek and making a trail down to his neck to distract him. This only worked for a few moments (He might've gotten too distracted by your cunt), but after a few seconds he put a stop to his movements, only keeping pressure on your cunt as he made it so you'd look into his eyes.

"Baby? You can tell me," he encouraged.

"No ... My first orgasm was the one you gave me a few days ago, when we ..."

Oh.

Had it been-

Had your first orgasm been when he dry humped you against the wall?

Fuck.

A mixture of pride and embarrassment invaded Wonwoo's mind. On one side, he was incredibly mortified that he had taken your first orgasm by humping into you like an animal in heat. On the other, he felt like he was on top of the world knowing that no one, not even yourself, had ever drawn an orgasm out of you until he came along.

His body decided to go with the latter, immediately feeling his loins fire up with an immense desire to give you another orgasm. And then another, and another – up until you were sobbing under him.

He kissed you again before you could express any form of embarrassment, shoving his tongue in your mouth and finally digging his fingers into your cunt. The moans you let out against his lips were muffled by his insistence on kissing you. Your hands didn't know where to land, going from his thighs to his waist and finally halting at his biceps, nails digging into them at the pleasure.

Slowly, he angled his fingers in your cunt, pumping them with increasing speed while his thumb toyed around for your clit, staying stationed on the swollen bud upon finding it.

"Never touched your pussy like this, baby? Hmm? Never filled yourself up?", he practically taunted, reeling on the fact that he was making you discover all this brand new pleasure.

"N-no, Nonu. Never ... Feels so good, s-so full. Please don't stop," you whimpered, gasping when he began pistoning into that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"This is only the beginning, pretty. Gonna get you on my tongue next. Fuck, pussy's so warm and tight. Bet it tastes so good," he rambled, picturing his cock suffocating between your walls.

"Keep talking to me, Nonu. L-love when you talk to me."

— You liked his horny ramblings about your cunt? This was a match made in heaven.

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?"

You nodded with wide eyes.

"Gonna drive you to the edge of orgasm with my fingers," his fingers slowed down to emphasize his point, "and then I'm gonna rip it away from you," he chuckled when you let out a tiny whimper at the threat, "But don't worry, baby, then I'm going to lick you up, gonna tease you with my tongue til you're crying ... and then I'm gonna make you cum. Won't waste a single drop of your orgasm, pretty. Gonna lick it all up and make you suck it out of my tongue," he finished, out of breath whilst his fingers continued their torturously slow pace.

"Please ... Want- wanna cum. Just- you can make me cum twice ... Right? Just make me cum again, fuck, please?", you were a complete mess by the end of his ramblings, making his hardening cock become even more rigid.

He'd been dealing with his cock pressing up against your stomach this whole time, knowing that it was probably digging into you as it continued to harden at every whimper that left your mouth. After you'd sucked him off through his own orgasm, he knew he'd have to end up seeking another one after you left, except that task was becoming harder by the minute.

Despite his inner turmoil at his delayed pleasure, you were clearly still his main priority. Chuckling darkly at your desperation, he coo'd at you patronizingly, nosing at your cheek up until his lips found your ears, whispering filth into them.

"Wanna cum? Wanna be a greedy girl and cum on my fingers and then on my mouth?" he nibbled at your lobe, chuckling again at the desperate way in which you nodded. He pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, meanly speeding up his fingers so you'd grow closer to your orgasm, "Okay, pretty. You can cum for me. Been such a good girl for me ... Cum? Make a mess, hmm?," he encouraged.

With a mantra of 'thank you's' whispered into his ear, you tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you, forcing Wonwoo to develop an entirely new sense of self control to prevent himself from cumming along with you, intensely affected by the sight. His fingers played with you through your orgasm, up until you silently squirmed at him to remove them.

Satisfied, he pulled out your fingers and dragged them up to his lips, sucking them in a manner so depraved, he was embarrassed by the way you became bashful at the sight. He shrugged off the embarrassment, gathering more honey from between your legs and lifting his fingers up to your own lips, groaning deep in his chest at how obediently you sucked at them, making eyes at him while you gagged on his fingers.

With an impossibly hard cock, he struggled to get on his knees in front of the couch, but managed to just out of the sheer need to bury his head between your legs. His mind couldn't even allow him to give you time to recover before pulling at your legs, dragging you closer to him. You wanted to experience sexual acts in preparation for the next guy that caught your eye? Well, then Wonwoo would have to make sure to lift your expectations as high as possible, hopefully rendering you unable to find anyone who could ever bring you as much pleasure as he would. And he would start by suckling into your sensitive cunt until you cried.

"N-Nonu! Fuck, oh, God, just like that!" you cried in desperation.

He couldn't blame you. The way in which he had immediately latched onto your cunt and gone to town between your legs had been far too intense, not bothering to ease you into it nor wait for you to recover from your previous orgasm.

You sobbed and cried above him, fingers tangled in his hair as you pushed him further into your cunt, clearly too lustful to have any decorum. But did Wonwoo care for decorum? Not when he also didn't have any. Not when he endlessly groaned into your pussy, grumbling praise and pleas for you to use him to your heart's contentment. Any thought of this being a way to teach you what oral was like had been buried deep in the back of his mind. For now, you were his to invade with pleasure and nothing else mattered.

After digging deep within you with his tongue, he pulled away (despite your whines in complaint), pointing his tongue to flick at your puffy clit. You responded by grinding into him, mumbling pleas for more. At some point you had taken off your bra, Wonwoo realized as he took a peak above him, finding one of your hands toying at a nipple. The sight made him want to be buried alive. His cock was surely hard as a rock by now, and the need to grab you and fuck you into a mumbling mess kept growing by the minute.

The couch began squeaking when Wonwoo's intensity in eating you out increased, your grinding also becoming faster and more erratic. His hips joined in on the commotion, rocking against the foot of the couch in a pathetic attempt to find some friction. You took notice of this after a while, crying out his name.

"Nonu ... Fuck ... Is it like this? Is this- is this how it's supposed to feel?", you sobbed, "I can't- It's too much- too good, fuck, Wonwoo ... Please ... Wanna cum."

He wanted so badly to tell you this was not the norm. That no man would ever be as thirsty for you as he was. That no one could ever bring you this amount of pleasure nor worship you as much as him. But he opted to make you cry even more instead, rubbing his nose into your clit while he licked into you with an unquenchable thirst.

"It's that good, baby? Making you feel good?," he instigated you into more nonsensical babbles.

You nodded frantically, "Wanna- wanna try it on you ... Y-your cock. Wanna suck your dick, Nonu, fuck. Please don't cum ... I need to be the one to make you cum. Teach me? P-please?", you suddenly threw him a curveball with your pleas, causing his hips to still with a gruttal groan.

"Fuck, baby ... Want my cock? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, just cum for me, okay, gorgeous? Hmm? Gonna cum for me?", he mumbled into your cunt, groaning at your increasingly high-pitched moans.

You sounded so gone and desperate for him, it was making it hard for him to not continue seeking tension on his cock by humping the couch. But the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his cock while you asked him to teach you how to make him cum had his mind focused on a single mission.

"C-cumming, Nonu! I'm gonna- fuck, please, please, please," you whimpered in between gasps.

Intensely thirsty for you, Wonwoo sucked at your cunt through the entirety of your orgasm, licking at any cum that managed to escape his mouth up until you had to physically drag his face away from between your legs, earning a sheepish chuckle out of him at his pussydrunkness.

He climbed the couch back up, kissing you once again, pushing in any leftover cum in his mouth for you to taste. Harshly, you pulled at his hair as you licked into his mouth. It was amusing to Wonwoo how easily you'd gotten used to kissing him just in the way he'd taught you. It sent shivers down his spine thinking of how perfect you were for him.

"Want your-"

"I know, baby. Want my cock, huh? I'll give it to you, just ... Let me kiss you," he mumbled against your lips while his hand went up to play with your tits, thumbs swiping at your nipples.

Kissing him back with just as much need, the two of you remained like this for a few minutes, breathing moans into the other's mouth until losing your breaths. Wonwoo took this as an opportunity to kiss his way down to your chest, sucking at your tits with greedy moans.

It was borderline pathetic how much he wanted you. He had already cum once, yet his cock was leaking precum once again, swollen and aching for your lips around it again. He had only felt you wrapped around his tip, suctioning enough to swallow his cum, but he was yet to show you how to truly take him.

Wonwoo's sexual frustration got to him faster than he expected, leading him to yet another trail to your lips before whispering into them, "Are you ready, baby?"

Nodding, you swallowed in anticipation. He proceeded to sit next to you on the couch, far enough that you'd be able to reach his cock if you knelt on top of the couch and leaned down to his side. Repositioning you, he shuddered when you finally began to lean down, lips quickly approaching his cock. But you stopped before you could make contact, staring up at him nervously.

"How ... I'm not sure how to do it ..." you murmured.

He coo'd at you, placing a hand on your cheek, "It's okay, pretty. You can change your mind, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted, "Just ... Guide me?"

You began leaning down again, keeping your eyes on Wonwoo (something he knew would come to break him), silently asking for instructions.

"Just lick it first, okay? Then- fuck ... Pretty, shit, slow down ... God, fuck, just like that ... Shit, are you sure you need me to teach you? So fucking good already ..." he groaned when you began taking him in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and head bobbing up and down.

Your hands wrapped around what couldn't make it into your mouth while you pushed him in as far in as possible. Occasionally, you'd choke, pulling back enough to breathe properly through your nose, but you continued to suck him off to the best of your inexperienced ability. It was messy and filthy for you both, but Wonwoo enjoyed it all the more at seeing just how desperate you were to get him off.

"My pretty girl," he grunted, hands digging into your hair as he helped you bob up and down, aiding your rhythm, "My beautiful girl loves my cock, huh? So- so fucking thirsty for it. Making me lose my mind," he continued to ramble, too addicted to the moans you'd let out at his every word, vibrating around his dick.

He was far too pent up and sensitive to survive your mouth for too long. Having watched your orgasm twice whilst humping the couch had drawn him too far to his end before you'd even wrapped your lips around him.

"I'm gonna- gonna cum, okay, pretty? Need- need you to keep your mouth on me. Swallow it all for me? Hmm? Y-yes, shit, keep doing that," he encouraged, head dizzy at your moan of confirmation.

Sooner than anticipated, his high robbed him of any ability to think or breathe, too absorbed by the immense pleasure you were bringing him. His hips canted slowly into your mouth as he rode the wave of his orgasm, eyes rolling back at how willing you were to let him use his mouth for his undivided pleasure. Once more, you swallowed every drop, drawing embarrassingly loud groans from his lips as he threw his head back.

With a heavy breath, you took him out of your mouth, wiping your cum-stained lips with the back of your hand before being suddenly pulled into Wonwoo's lap with a yelp.

"Such a good girl," he groaned into your lips, trapping you in the nth kiss of the night. He licked at every inch of your mouth, seeking out his own cum from your tongue.

He still felt incredibly needy, but knew that another orgasm would render him useless for the rest of the day. You, however, were clearly too affected for him to stop. Deciding to provide you with another new form of pleasure, he positioned you so you'd straddle his lap, guiding your hips to grind on the length of it with your bare cunt, still soaked and begging for attention.

"N-nonu," you stammered with a breathy sigh, "Fuck, feels good ..."

"Yeah, pretty? Feels so good, huh? Keep grinding on it, okay, baby? Make yourself cum on my thigh," he murmured into your ear, nibbling at the lobe before kissing down your neck.

He silently enjoyed the feeling of your skin against him, while also eating up every single noise of unadulterated pleasure coming from your lips. Falling for you more by the second, he lost himself in the moment, entirely investing himself in your person.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea? Any guy would kill to be yours, fuck," he started, laying kisses from your neck to your ear, "Can't believe I'm the only guy to ever get you like this," he marbled.

"Nonu," you sighed at his soft touches, leaning into his kissed and moaning softly every so often.

"God, love this body so much ... Prettiest thing I've ever had," his hands explored your body, dragging your hips so they'd grind into his thigh with even more fervor, "Need you to cum again, pretty. Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?"

"Y-yes. Nonu, please ..."

"Only for me, right, baby? Only I get to have you like this ..." he practically whined when you nodded, rewarding you with his lips finding your nipples, nibbling at the hard buds and humming any time your moans would vibrate against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he instigated. He knew your mind was half gone in the pleasure of the approach of your third orgasm, but he needed to hear you say it at least once. He needed the fantasy to continue.

"Yours, Nonu. A-always yours ... Make me feel so good, fuck," you gasped, desperately humping into his thigh. He buried his face in your chest with a groan, far too affected by your reciprocation.

Did you mean it? Were you his? He knew it was all done and said in the heat of the passion being shared between you, but he couldn't help but take those words to heart. To save them and treasure them as if they'd been heartfelt.

Fingers tightening into the plush of your hips, he dragged you back and forth on his thigh, reeling at every gasp you let out at the feeling. He continued to wax poetic at you, letting out his most intimate of feelings for you under the vice of the pleasure getting to him.

You dumbly nodded along to every word, reciprocating every so often with a look like Wonwoo hoped was genuine. Falling against his chest, you found your third high of the night, mumbling 'thankyou's' as you kissed at his chest tenderly.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, somehow managing to fall into slumber on Wonwoo's couch, you lying above him while he held you in his arms.

Wonwoo woke up the next day to your absence and a lone sticky note on the coffee table in front of him, clearly a message from you before your departure.

thank u for last night <3 i'll see u on wednesday?

He chuckled at the message, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach at the memory of the night prior and the thought of what was to come. He knew that things would likely stop after Wednesday, – the day in which he'd finally take your virginity – but he decided he'd enjoy you as long as he had you all to himself. Even if there was an expiration date on it.

Surprisingly to Wonwoo, you never showed up on Wednesday, neither did you respond to his messages all through the day. It was common for the two of you to go one or two days without responding to the other, but usually not when you already had plans to meet.

Considering the nature of the plans you had that day, the situation had Wonwoo tremendously worried. It was even worse when he'd consulted other friends and found out you'd been in contact with them, only icing him out.

It was on Thursday that he grew frustrated. With his entire day being taken up by classes, he was unable to even go looking for you. His mind had been on you all day, rendering him unable to pay attention to any of his lectures or even touch any overdue homework that he had. Your silence had only lasted a few days so far, but he was already growing insane because of it.

It wasn't until the following week that he decided to go to you, with no prior warning informing you of his presence at your front door.

As he stood in front of your closed door, hand lifted and ready to knock, he felt absolutely terrified. Last time he had seen you, too many things had happened between you. From the handjob to the eating out to the oral, Wonwoo's mind wad fried with all the intimacy that taken place that day. Had he done too much? Or maybe he had been too obvious about how he felt about you. Regardless of the reason for your sudden silence, he knew it must've been bad.

"Wonwoo?"

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from his left – your voice. You were arriving from some sort of errand it seemed, seeing as you were carrying a large tote bag on each hand as you walked towards your own door.

"Y/N," he somehow managed to stammer your name, gulping at your presence.

You walked past him, opening your door and standing to the side, silently welcoming him in. Apprehensively, he stepped in, hands awkwardly in his pockets and his eyes stagnant on the floor.

Your figure disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments after you'd stepped in, coming back out bagless and standing in front of him in the living room. Wonwoo hadn't bothered to take a seat on your couch, too distracted by the endless thoughts of what was about to come.

"I ... I don't think I want you to take my virginity anymore," you suddenly spoke up, apprehensive in your tone and unable to meet Wonwoo's eyes.

His heart dropped at your words. He felt embarrassed by the tinge of disappointment arising within him, but also scared of what this truly meant for your friendship.

He scrunched up his eyes painfully before responding, finally looking up to look at you, "W-what? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonwoo couldn't help but take it personally, heart breaking at just a single sentence.

"It's not that, just ... Fuck, we took this too far, Wonwoo. I thought about everything that happened last time and ... it's too much," you said with regret in your eyes, "I shouldn't have ever asked you for this. I just- I felt like such a loser graduating college and still being a virgin, but I never should've made you do this-"

"You didn't make me do anything," he stepped towards you, wincing when you stepped back, "I ... We don't have to keep going, just ... What changed? Why- why have you been avoiding me?" He needed to know.

You hesitated, looking away and biting your lip with a pained look in your eyes. For a few moments you remained quiet, sniffling occasionally, letting Wonwoo know that you were likely on the verge of crying.

"I can't tell you," you practically whispered.

He had to force himself not to react to your words. The frustration within him was fighting to be let out into the surface. He couldn't deny that his feelings were hurt and that his ego was bruised at how lightly you were taking this. How could he have been the only one to make the mistake of putting his heart in it?

"Do you- do you think it's okay to just-," he tried, swallowing the vile forming in his throat, "How can you ask me to sleep with you and then just ... just ghost me? If you didn't want to keep going, I would've understood, but ... a week? I don't hear from you for a week after- after everything we did?," he mumbled the last part, embarrassed by how quickly he'd gotten emotional.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were going to teach me, and that was it," you started, a pained look in your eyes as they gradually became glassy, "But then, that second time, when we- when-" you cut yourself off, seemingly unable to continue. You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes, "It's better if we just stop here. I don't think we should talk about this," you sniffled.

"Why?", he pushed, "What does this mean for our friendship, then? Am I worth so little to you that you'd want me for sex and then just throw me away when you change your mind?", he took off his glasses momentarily to angrily wipe at the tears forming on his eyes. His anger and sadness were mixing together, creating a combination of emotions that resulted in the mess he felt himself to be.

"Wonwoo, you know it's not like that-"

"Do I? Do I know? Because what it seems to me is like you insisted I take your virginity, changed your mind – which is totally fine, but fuck – and then ghosted me. I thought we were friends- no, best friends. Was it that horrible that you had to ice me out? Are you just going to find some guy on tinder now? Was it- was it the things I said last time?", his tone shifted, unveiling his sadness, "Did I scare you away with everything I said? I- I was just caught in the moment, it didn't," he gulped, vile forming in his throat knowing he was about to deliver a painful lie, "it didn't mean anything."

You swallowed, looking down again and sniffling, "Yeah, I know," you whimpered. Your arms wrapped around yourself, making yourself as small as possible as you stood in front of Wonwoo. It then became evident to Wonwoo that you were attempting to self-soothe. Your eyes were now covered by a layer of tears, making them glassy, much like Wonwoo's.

"Y/N?", he asked.

You looked up, sniffing before connecting your eyes to Wonwoo's.

"Talk to me. Please," he pleaded with saddened eyes.

You mumbled something unintelligible to Wonwoo, making him take a few steps forward to encourage you into speaking.

Placing his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up to look at him, finding tear-stained cheeks and a defeated look on your face.

"I can't understand you, just- just please talk to me," he pleaded once more.

Your eyes continued to not meet his despite your current standing. Taking a deep breath, your hands went up to cup his own, which were still tenderly cupping at your cheeks.

"I like you ..." you started, quietly as you finally made eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed and pained at your own words, "I like you and I couldn't keep going when- when it meant nothing to you. And- and you kept being so nice to me and kissing me and touching me in ways I know meant nothing to you. But I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much what we did has messed with me," you rambled, your voice getting more frantic by the second, "I couldn't even look at you by the end of it all because I was terrified I'd end up telling you how much I-," you swallowed, "how in love with you I am," you admitted, "I never wanted it to get in the way of our friendship, but it all-"

Wonwoo couldn't listen to any more of your rambles before losing his mind at both the pain and irony of your words. His lips invaded your own mid-speech as he swallowed any other words making their way out of your mouth. His hands tightened around your cheeks, only making their way down to your waist when he felt you begin to return his kiss. Moaning in relief into your mouth, he sighed when he felt your tongue use this opportunity to seek his own. Emotions took over him, causing him to lose himself in the kiss, molding himself into you and swallowing every single sigh you let out against his lips.

Feeling the dampness of your tears grace his cheeks made him pull away, remembering the mess of emotions you had been just before he kissed you. The way your lips attempted to follow his own broke his heart, forcing himself to hold back from kissing you until you both lost your breaths. He needed to empty his heart out to you first.

"I love you. I adore you. I'm so fucking obsessed with you, it's been eating me alive," he rasped, lips making their way down your neck, "Felt like shit kissing you and- and touching you when I knew you'd just move on to some dumbass who could never deserve you," he grunted, frustrated at the memory, "How could you ever think I wouldn't love you back when you're so ... so fucking perfect? So made for me," he trailed off. Your sighs were just too distracting for him to deliver the heartfelt speech that had been itching to leave his lips since the day you first kissed.

He pulled away, now staring down into your eyes, hoping his words made it through to you.

"But ... You said you didn't mean it. That it didn't mean anything?", you murmured as he shook his head adamantly in denial.

"I lied," he rasped, "I didn't want you to feel trapped," hands reaching down to your own, he placed them on his chest, "Of course it meant something. Everything I said, I meant. Everything I'm saying right now is true. I love you," he emphasized, "You have to know that I love you," your hand was brought up to his lips, receiving a kiss.

Your eyes somehow watered even more, hiccuping out a gasp before pulling him into you, lips meeting passionately in between. Without any hesitance, he kissed you back, expressing every unsaid word through your meeting of lips. What had started as an exchange of innocent passion soon became a desperate demonstration of love, evolving into moans and sighs swallowed by one another.

Wonwoo felt ashamed by how easy it was for him to fall for his lust for you, but his body craved your own in ways he didn't think possible. Luckily for him, it seemed like you had the same issue, or at least that's the impression he got from how pliant you became in his touch, moans of his name instigating him into kissing and touching more intimately. His lips explored your bare neck, sucking love bites every so often and humming at every sigh leaving your lips.

His purposeful touches became more obvious, reaching down to your ass and up to your mounds to his liking. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling at it any time his touches made you particularly lightheaded. Shockingly to him, you mirrored him, exploring his body with your hands and making your way under his shirt, gracing at his torso.

You had been the first to take things further, grabbing at the end of his shirt and pulling it up. Following your silent request, he threw it off before helping you out of your own. Realizing you had been fully nude under your shirt, he let out a shuddered groan. His lips immediately trailed down to your breasts, practically slobbering all over the sensitive skin while feeding off your cries of his name. Reaching down to the back of your thighs, his hands lifted you up, aided by a small jump from you as you wrapped your legs around him.

Next thing Wonwoo knew, he found himself in your room, laying you on your bed before climbing on top of you and getting back to kissing you.

It was merely impossible to disconnect his lips from you, as your kisses kept drawing him in. He knew you'd been kissed before, but he liked to think that he'd been the first man to ever kiss you in such a way; a way that had you as addicted to him as he was to you.

"Nonu ...," you breathed out in between kisses, "I want you, fuck, please ..."

Wonwoo felt like the world was crashing in on him (in a good way). The groan he roared against your lips couldn't be helped as your words had an instant effect on him.

"A-are you sure?", his frantic eyes searched yours, hands caressing any bit of skin in his reach.

Nodding numbly, you repeated yourself, "Please, Nonu. I want you to be my first. I didn't mean it, I- I want you. I need you, Nonu. Please," you rambled, eyes filled with unrecognizable lust.

He hushed you softly, "Shh, baby. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it," he pecked your lips, "I love you. I'll give it to you, yeah? Gonna fuck you ... Love you so much," he trailed off, attacking your neck with kisses before momentarily getting up to remove his shoes and pants, leaving himself fully nude before you.

You stared back at him, shyly looking him up and down and biting your lip. The look you were giving Wonwoo tested all his self control. He wondered how much longer he could resist you without losing his sanity. But he persisted, having an intimate desire to give you the softest and most mind-blowing first time he possibly could. As much as he wanted to fuck you, his desire to make love to you overrode that need.

Nimble fingers traced down from your breasts to your shorts, dragging them off with the help of a lift of your hips. Along with your shorts went your panties, leaving a slight trail of slick he managed to get sight of before closing any distance between you once more.

Slowly, his fingers made their way to your cunt, rubbing at it softly and drawing a few hiccuped gasps from your lips. Your eyes remained connected, wordless as you communicated your lust to one another. He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, enjoying the intimacy of it all as you breathed into his skin.

"Nonu, fuck me," you whined a few moments later, hands pulling at him to somehow get him closer.

"Baby, I need to get you ready," he coo'd at your desperation.

You shook your head adamantly, "No, just- please. I've wanted you since that first day ... Wanted to break off our deal and have you fuck me since you kissed me," you revealed, wrapping your legs around his waist and attempting to push his hips down to your own.

"Baby ..."

"Please," you pleaded again, "I know you want me too. Fuck me," you murmured into his lips, aware you were breaking his resolve.

And his resolve was completely gone. Unable to hold back further, he kissed you again, readjusting his hips so he could grind against you, wanting to at least get you used to the weight and size of his bare cock before pushing it in.

After kissing you for a minute or so, he pulled back, "Condoms?", he asked in between wet kisses.

You shook your head, insisting he keep kissing you, "I'm on birth control. Just- just fuck me," you insisted again.

Leaning back, Wonwoo grabbed onto the base of his cock, running the tip up and down your swollen cunt, swallowing every gasp you let out at the barely-there stimulation. This only lasted a few moments before beginning to push it in, immediately burying his head in the crook of your neck at the immense pleasure taking over him.

He knew you'd be tight and warm and just fucking perfect for him, but nothing could've predicted how tightly your cunt would engulf him and rob him of his sanity. Every night spent thinking of you and punishing himself for wanting you as badly as he did was finally worth the endless wait to have you. Never did he once imagine that he would actually get to feel you, to have you become his and love him as much as he did you. Yet here he was, cock suffocating between your puffy walls while you gasped out his name.

"Feel so fucking good, angel," he managed to let out, "My beautiful girl ... Cunt's so fucking perfect for me ... Can't even move, baby, it's so tight," he rambled, high off his mind in pleasure.

You fared no better, gasping out nonsensical babbles of his name and digging your nails on his back, dragging them down as you left your mark on him. Your lips attempted to match the movement of his own, giving up when he defeated you in his incessant need to fuck into you.

"Tell me it feels good, baby," he breathed, "T-tell me you love me."

"L-love you so much ... Feel so good, Nonu. Can't- can't think. It's so good," you cried, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grew even more lustful at the mere sound of your broken voice. The knowledge that he was making you feel good beyond comprehension took him to cloud-9, speeding up his hips once you seemed used to the penetration of his cock.

Lifting up your hips, he angled himself perfectly to cant into you, managing to hit that spongy spot inside you that had you shamelessly wailing his name. Your tits bounced with every slap of his hips against your ass, making Wonwoo's eyes roll back at the sight.

But your wails weren't enough for him, he needed you to lose yourself completely, to forget anything that wasn't a mantra of Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. His hand snuck down to your cunt, toying around until he made contact with your swollen clit, rubbing at it with no mercy. Your gasps and screams of his name were his immediate reward whilst Wonwoo drank in the sight of your eyes rolling back.

"N-Nonu ... F-fuck! Need to cum, Nonu, please. I need to cum. Make me cum, Nonu. Please? Need you to cum with me, fuck," you rambled, unaware that he was at the very edge of his orgasm.

Your horny ramblings were enough for him to head face first into his orgasm, pulling you right down with him as his hips lost complete control.

"Cum with me, pretty. Let me fill you up while you cum with me, okay? Let me feel that cunt squeeze me dry ..." he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to not bust.

That's when your orgasm found you, stealing his sanity as his own followed yours. He let go of your legs and held onto your back, continuing to grind into you as he released inside you. With his face buried in your neck, he murmured love confessions against your skin, mind dizzy with love and lust.

By the end of it, your lips were meeting again, soft and languid kisses shared between you while words of affection were exchanged. After a few moments of this soft exchange, Wonwoo finally disconnected his lips from you, choosing to slip out and lay beside you as he nuzzled against you.

"Was that what you expected?", he asked with a bite of his lip.

"Maybe ..." you were shy in your response, "Might need to try again."

"Oh?," he giggled.

Giggled? Fuck, he was down horribly for you.

"C'mere, let me teach you some more."

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, foreplay, mentions of handjob, face riding, oral (f receiving), mentions of 69'ing, etc.

wc: 727 (teaser); 2317 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Exactly how experienced are you?", you had asked out of the blue during one of your 'dates.'

Having been best friends prior to the whole friends with benefits — but not really — situation led to a very natural transition between friends to lovers. Your current dynamic with one another was exactly the same as before, except now you each shared the privilege of calling the other theirs — and all the extra perks that came with having a significant other.

Currently, you found yourselves in a situation you'd grown entirely too familiar with throughout the years of being best friends — in your apartment as you cuddled up with a movie playing in the background. The grand difference at the moment had been your sudden question, making Wonwoo's heart rate increase drastically at the recollection of all his sexual escapades prior to confessing to you.

It's not like Wonwoo knew you to be a jealous person, but the mere thought of any woman who wasn't you just felt wrong to him after finally making you his. Even as he went through every relationship and fling he ever had, he had never felt a connection with anyone as he did you. Sure, he had had some great sex back in his day, but having been in love with you throughout it all, he knew it would've been impossible for sex to ever be as good with anyone else as it had been with you — the contrast in emotional connection was just too different when it came to you.

And so now he found himself unsure as to how to respond. Would you get jealous? Annoyed? He knew damn well that he'd wanna beat down any loser you'd slept with, but he felt lucky he didn't have to deal with that, having been your one and only thus far — though he still felt an irrational hate towards whichever fucker had taken your first kiss from you. These thoughts were far too irrational, Wonwoo was aware. He knew he was a hypocrite to feel such a way when he was the one who had a past of being a bit liberal when it came to his sex life, which was why he would've preferred to avoid the subject of his past sexual partners in general. It's not like he had a new person warming up his bed on a daily basis, but he had his fair share of girlfriends and occasional one night stand throughout his college days. This was something he'd hate to hear about coming from you, and he wanted to offer the same courtesy to you.

However, looking to you as you uttered the problematic question, he found no trace of negative emotions in your eyes. The question appeared to be born out of mere curiosity, not fabricated to create a rift or any sort of argument.

"I, uh, are you sure you want me to answer that?", was all he could come up with, shuffling on the couch to turn to look at you.

You nodded with a look of wonder in your eyes, "Yeah. I'm just curious."

"Uh," he continued to stammer, "I'm just not sure how to answer the question."

"Well, how many sexual partners have you had? Or, like, is there anything you haven't tried yet?", you mirrored him in his position, still sitting on the couch but now facing him.

The follow up questions were worse than the original one. Wonwoo had no idea of the answer to neither, which appalled him in retrospect. It's not like he kept a tally of every girl he slept with, nor did he have much recollection of every sex position he'd tried in the past — was there anything he had not done at some point?

You must've caught onto the wheels turning in his head, laughing at his expression before elaborating with your questions.

"Okay, shit. Is it upwards of ten?"

"Y-yeah, maybe," — it was probably over twenty, but you didn't need to know that.

"How about my other question? Anything you haven't tried yet?", you showed no reaction to his answer, so he allowed himself to ponder on a response to your second question.

Was there anything he hadn't done? Maybe something he'd fantasized about doing with you? Something he might've saved for the day he finally got the balls to- oh. That's when it hit him.

...

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[kifinally]

Challenge Accepted | Wooyoung x fem reader

Pairing : Wooyoung x female reader

Summary : Your best-friend is an absolute brat at the best of times knowing how to rile you up and push your buttons, especially when you're gaming and especially when he flirts too much with you.

Genre : mostly just Wooyoung brain rot causing me to write this, smutty, unprotected sex, best-friend au, cockwarming, MDNI

Words Count : 5.4k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the Ateez members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

Your best-friend bursts through the door of your apartment like a whirlwind, the familiar sound of his footsteps filling the space, the sound somehow comforting and chaotic all at once.

He's grinning like a kid who just broke into a candy store, eyes alight with that familiar gleam of trouble.

“Hey, what’s up, beautiful?” His voice booms across the room, way too loud for the space, but it’s always been like that with him, everything too much, too fast, too Wooyoung.

He slings his bag onto your couch without a second thought, eyes never leaving yours, his steps quick, intentional.

That grin of his widens as he leans into you, nudging your shoulder in that playful way that makes it impossible not to smile back.

The scent of his cologne wrapping around you, dizzying. “Feels like it’s been forever since we hung out. Seriously.”

Your heart skips, a slight flutter you try to shove down. But the way his fingers brush yours, just the faintest touch, leaves a heat simmering beneath your skin.

You roll your eyes to play it off, crossing your arms over your chest like some flimsy shield, but your lips are already curving upward, betraying you.

“Ages? Really?” you shoot back, voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s been, what? A week?”

He drops onto the couch, hands clapping together with a burst of excitement. Mischief is practically written all over his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes glinting like he’s about to pull a prank.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” The way his mouth twitches, you know he’s barely holding back from spilling whatever it is right now.

You narrow your eyes, suspicious, leaning against the kitchen counter like you're steadying yourself for whatever chaos he’s about to unleash. “What is it, Wooyoung?” you ask, trying to sound calm, casual even, but he’s always been able to see through you. The slight waver in your voice? It gives you away.

He smirks, leaning back against the cushions, one arm casually draped over the back of the couch like he owns the place. His gaze flickers to yours, the confidence in his posture mixed with something else, something more....

“You’ll find out soon,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a notch, softer now, though the teasing tone remains.

His eyes lock with yours, lingering a little longer than usual, and suddenly the room feels too small, too quiet.

The way he’s looking at you... Your pulse quickens despite yourself.

“Wooyoung…” you warn, but your voice falters, betraying the tension building between you.

He grins wider, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you, and you feel that familiar pull in your chest, the one you’ve been ignoring for as long as you’ve known him.

Wooyoung shifts on the couch, sitting up a little straighter, and with that same impish grin, he reaches into his pocket.

You watch as his fingers disappear briefly before pulling out a small black box. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you immediately feel your breath catch.

He holds the box out to you, his grin softening into something... gentler, but still teasing, like he’s fully aware of the effect he's having on you. He wiggles the box a little, urging you to take it. "Go on," he says, voice low and playful. "Open it."

"Wooyoung..." you mutter, narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you look down at the box in your hands.

He shifts slightly, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you with that insufferable smirk, like he's holding back from exploding with laughter or excitement.

"Are you gonna keep staring at it or open it?" he teases.

Sitting down beside him to open it, your breath hitches as you take in the sight of the delicate necklace nestled inside the box.

A thin silver chain with a small, intricately crafted musical note pendant. A tiny gem, shimmering faintly in the soft light, is embedded in the note, catching your eye with each movement.

You feel your heart squeeze as you lift it from the box, the necklace cool and light in your hand. “Wooyoung,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leans back on the couch, hands resting behind his head, that smug grin still plastered on his face, though his eyes flicker with something deeper. “You like it?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, but still carrying that familiar teasing lilt.

Your fingers trace the gem on the pendant, almost afraid to touch it too much, like it’s something fragile, precious.

The weight of the gift feels overwhelming, and not just because of its beauty. “It’s... stunning, but why?” You lift your gaze to meet his, your heart racing faster than you’d like to admit.

He shrugs, all casual, like he hasn’t just sent your heart into a tailspin. His lips curve into that lazy, half-smirk that drives you insane in all the right ways. “Do I need a reason to buy my best friend something pretty?

You roll your eyes, trying to steady your voice even as you feel that familiar tug deep inside you. “Best friends don’t just casually give each other necklaces for no reason, Wooyoung.”

He leans back stretching his arms wide like he’s settling in to watch a show. “Oh, excuse me for being thoughtful,” he says, throwing in a dramatic sigh. “I should’ve just brought over pizza or something, right?” His tone is all mock offense, but the sparkle in his eyes says he’s loving every second of your reaction.

“You’re being weird,” you mutter, staring down at the necklace again, the delicate pendant resting in your palm like it weighs a ton. “There’s gotta be a reason for this.”

Wooyoung leans in, dropping his voice to a low, teasing whisper. “I just wanted to see you get all flustered. It’s adorable,” he says, his face close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.

His grin only widens when he sees the flush creeping up your neck. He’s known you too long, can read you too easily, and he takes full advantage of that.

You huff, trying to hold onto your irritation, but it’s impossible with him looking at you like that, like he’s always known just how to break down your walls.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, pushing him back lightly, but the way your heart’s thundering in your chest betrays you.

He laughs, catching your hand as you shove him, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that feels too intimate for something so casual. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, the teasing still there, but softer now. His eyes flicker to the necklace, then back to yours. “But you can’t say I don’t know what you like.”

The tension between you shifts, something familiar but deeper settling into the air.

He’s always been able to do this, push and pull at you, make you laugh one second and leave you breathless the next.

It’s part of why you’ve stayed close all these years, but lately… it’s been harder to ignore how right it feels, even in moments like this.

You clear your throat, trying to find something to anchor yourself. “Wooyoung,” you start, but your voice falters when you look up at him. He’s still holding your hand, his thumb tracing slow circles that send little jolts of electricity up your arm.

He smirks as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down with a necklace and a few touches. “Come on,” he says, gesturing to the necklace. “Put it on. It’ll look amazing on you, and you know it.”

You hesitate, but the look in his eyes makes you finally give in.

You lift the necklace and turn slightly, exposing your neck as you fumble with the clasp. Before you can get too far, he's already behind you, his fingers brushing yours as he takes over, sending a shiver down your spine.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice dropping as he fastens it gently. His fingers linger at the base of your neck, the warmth of his touch sending your heart into overdrive. His eyes locked on you, and for a second, neither of you says a word.

His smirk returns, but there’s a softness in his voice when he says, “Told you. You look stunning.”

You break the tension with a playful shove to his shoulder, as you clear your throat, trying to shake off the lingering electricity in the air.

"Right," you say, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite hide the warmth still simmering under your skin. "Let’s get some drinks and play some video games."

Wooyoung’s face lights up instantly, his cocky grin sliding right back into place, like the intensity of the last few moments never even happened. “That’s my girl!” he practically shouts, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him in one smooth, effortless motion.

His arm stays firmly around you as you head toward the kitchen together, his laughter filling the space, loud and familiar.

You open the fridge, pulling out a couple of drinks, handing one to him without a word.

The movement is quick, routine, like muscle memory after all these years of friendship.

The tension from earlier starts to ease, slipping back into the comfortable flow of your usual banter. But still, there’s that buzz something different lingering, something you both keep ignoring.

“So,” Wooyoung says, tilting his head toward the gaming setup, that devilish grin spreading across his face. “What game do you want me to destroy you in tonight?”

You snort, twisting the cap off your drink as you throw him a look. “Destroy me? You wish,” you shoot back.

He steps back with a dramatic flourish, eyebrows raised like he’s about to put on a show. “Oh, I know I will,” he says, that bratty edge to his voice as he crosses his arms. “You’re too distracted by my good looks to focus properly.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, brat,” you shoot back, doing your best to push down the flutters in your chest.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes at you, clearly enjoying the banter, and gestures toward the couch with a smug smile. “Get ready to lose, beautiful."

-

Time flies as the two of you dive into game after game, the atmosphere shifting between bursts of laughter and moments of intense focus.

But, in true Wooyoung fashion, he’s taken his bratty antics to a whole new level tonight.

He’s constantly leaning into your space, throwing sarcastic remarks your way with every small victory, his grin downright wicked as he taunts you, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

"Come on, Y/N, is that all you’ve got?" he teases, leaning in so close you can feel the warmth of his breath grazing your ear.

His shoulder bumps yours, just enough to mess with your concentration, his eyes dancing with mischief. "At this rate, you might as well hand me the controller."

Your eyes narrow, your focus split between the game and trying not to let his proximity get to you. "Wooyoung," you growl, fighting back a grin as your fingers tighten around the controller. You resist the urge to shove him, barely. "You’re going to regret it when I win."

He chuckles, low and smug, leaning even closer, his arm stretching across the back of the couch behind you, effectively boxing you in. His voice dips, almost conspiratorial. "Oh, please. You can’t win if you’re distracted."

He’s so close now that every time he leans in to “check” your progress, his arm brushes against yours, the warmth of his body radiating against your side. It’s deliberate.

Every touch, every little nudge, is meant to throw you off, and, annoyingly, it’s working. Your fingers stumble on the controls, and you know he’s loving every second of it.

Then, with one especially cocky move, Wooyoung sprawls dramatically across your lap, laughing loud and proud as you nearly lose the game.

His laughter is infectious, but you’re so close to snapping that you finally can’t take it anymore. You swat at him, catching his arm with a playful shove. "Hey!" you yell, barely holding back your own laughter. "That’s not fair! Get off me, brat!"

Wooyoung’s laughter only intensifies, his whole body shaking as he leans back, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke. "Not fair? I’m not the one losing!" he wheezes, completely ignoring the fact that you’re still trying to play.

"Yeah, because you keep distracting me!" you snap, your competitive streak flaring up.

You reach over to shove him again, but this time, instead of moving away, he catches your hand in one smooth motion. His fingers wrap around yours, firm but playful, and for a second, the world feels like it slows down.

The laughter dies in Wooyoung’s throat, and for a moment, it’s like the world shrinks around the two of you. His hand is still wrapped around yours, and his teasing grin falters, just for a second, but long enough to send your heart into a tailspin

"Admit it," he says, his voice low and teasing but with an edge that makes your pulse race. "You’re just mad because you’re losing to me."

You swallow hard, but instead of pulling your hand away, you squeeze his back, the warmth of his skin under your palm making it harder to think clearly.

"No," you shoot back, your voice steady even though your heart is thudding in your chest. "I’m mad because you’re being an annoying little punk."

Wooyoung throws his head back, laughing loud, the sound filling the room in a way that makes your chest flutter. "Oh, come on," he says, his voice dripping with smugness, eyes glinting with mischief. "It was a fair fight. You just can’t handle losing to the master."

He leans back against the couch, his arms spreading wide in an exaggerated show of victory, and as he stretches, his shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of his toned abs.

The glimpse of his skin catches you off guard, making your heart skip a beat before you can reel it back in. You tear your gaze away, but the image lingers, warm and distracting.

You grit your teeth, reaching for your beer and downing it in one long, determined gulp, the cool liquid not doing nearly enough to cool the frustration that’s simmering under the surface.

It’s not just the game, not just his constant teasing—it’s him. "Ugh!" You slam the empty bottle down on the coffee table with a bit more force than necessary, the loud clink breaking the silence.

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, and that grin of his, infuriating and cocky spreads wider.

"You okay there, champ?" he asks, leaning in a little closer, like he’s savouring every second of your frustration. "Need another drink to drown your sorrows?"

Your glare sharpens, but there’s a spark of playfulness in it now. You’re not backing down from this.

"Oh, so you think you could still beat me even if you were distracted?" you challenge, leaning toward him, eyes narrowing with intent.

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, and his smirk grows wider, the challenge flickering in his eyes. "Me? Distracted?" he scoffs, his voice dropping as he leans in just a fraction more. "You really think you could manage that?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he glances at your lips for just a second, his tone laced with a daring edge.

You tilt your head, refusing to let him win this time. The corners of your mouth quirk up in a teasing grin. “I think you underestimate me, Woo.” Your voice is low, daring. You lean in, just enough for your shoulder to brush lightly against his arm, the warmth of his body making your skin tingle.

He inches even closer, the space between you evaporating until you can feel the heat radiating from him. “Oh, I could beat you with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back,” he drawls, his voice dripping with cocky confidence, each word wrapped in a smirk.

You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms defiantly, your pulse quickening at the challenge. “Oh really?” you shoot back, leaning in just a little more, your breath mingling with his. There’s a fire in your chest now, competitive, thrilling. “Let’s see how far those skills go when you’re not distracted by your own ego.”

He doesn’t back down. In fact, he leans into the tension, like he thrives on it. His grin grows even bolder.

“Alright,” he muses, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin, the playfulness never leaving his eyes. “Let’s make a bet. If I win, you have to…” His eyes lock onto yours, his voice lowering just enough to send a jolt through you. “Kiss me.”

Your heart skips a beat, the unexpected boldness of his words hitting you like a shockwave. You blink, your mouth parting as you try to process what he just said.

“What?” you manage to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leans in just a fraction more, his smirk growing as he watches you fumble. “But,” he adds, his voice soft but loaded with intent, “if I lose, you get to ask anything of me.” His gaze drops to your lips for a heartbeat before snapping back to your eyes, the intensity there making your stomach flip. “So, do we have a bet?”

Your breath catches. It’s not just a game anymore. Not with the way he’s looking at you, not with the heat simmering between you both.

The idea of kissing him, feeling that connection, finally pushing past the electric tension, sends a shiver down your spine. You can almost taste it.

You swallow, trying to slow your racing heart. “And you’re confident you can win, huh?” you challenge, your voice betraying the adrenaline rushing through you. You sit back, hoping the distance will give you a moment to collect yourself. But it doesn’t help.

“Always.” His voice is smooth, confident, as if he’s already won. He crosses his arms over his chest, lounging back against the couch, looking every bit like someone who’s sure of his victory. “Besides, I like the odds. And the reward… doesn’t sound so bad.”

You stare at him, your mind swirling, trying to keep your cool. But you can feel the heat rising in your chest, spreading through your limbs.

There’s no denying the chemistry between you, it’s been crackling like this for ages, but now it’s on the verge of something dangerous and exhilarating and something finally snaps in you.

You narrow your eyes, letting a slow, teasing smile tug at your lips. “But you haven’t heard how I’m going to challenge you yet,” you say, your tone low and suggestive.

It feels like a gamble, this game you're playing with him. But his interest piques instantly, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as he leans forward.

“Oh? I’m all ears,” he says, feigning innocence. But you know that glint in his eyes. He’s not fooling anyone.

“I don’t think you can handle it,” you murmur, upping the stakes, your gaze daring him. “Maybe I should give you an easier challenge.” You bite back a grin.

He scoffs, clearly not taking the bait, “Come on,” he says, voice dropping into that dangerously charming tone. “Don’t hold back. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Your heart pounds, but you keep your voice steady, meeting his challenge head-on. “Oh, you think so?” you ask, a slow smile curling your lips. “Careful, Wooyoung. You might regret being this confident.”

He blinks, his grin faltering as he processes the shift in your tone. You take a slow, deliberate breath, heart pounding as you prepare to throw him off balance.

“Fine,” you finally say, your voice a low, sultry challenge. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You pause, letting the tension build, his eyes fixed on yours, waiting.

“You have to beat this level,” you lean in, your mouth dangerously close to his ear, your next words a whisper that makes his breath hitch, “while I’m… cock warming you.”

The room stands still, like the air itself is holding its breath. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat, pounding loud in the heavy silence, and the heat between you becomes something tangible, thick enough to drown in.

His mouth parts slightly, and for a second, you watch as his usual bravado flickers, like a flame exposed to a sudden gust of wind.

Swallowing hard, his throat bobs with the effort, as if trying to choke down something much bigger than he expected.

His eyes, usually filled with playful confidence, widen in disbelief, like he isn’t sure if he actually heard what he thought he did. For the first time, the bratty edge he’s always so quick to wield falters.

He looks almost dazed, lips parting in surprise. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.” His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s afraid to say it any louder, as though doing so would make it real.

His fingers twitch at his side, the nerves betraying him, though he’s desperately trying to play it cool.

But you see it, the tension in his jaw, the subtle flush creeping up his neck. He’s rattled, and that thrill ripples through you.

His eyes meet yours, locking in place as the room suddenly feels even smaller, the walls closing in with the weight of what you’ve just said.

“Cockwarming?” he finally whispers, the word coming out like it’s forbidden, barely louder than a breath.

His gaze doesn’t leave yours, searching your face, looking for any sign that this is a game or a joke. But your expression holds firm, and you can see the uncertainty in his posture, he’s too stiff, too still for the cocky Wooyoung you’re used to.

The tension shifts, morphs, crackling between you like static electricity.

You lean back slowly, arms crossing over your chest as a smug grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, savouring the power in this moment. “Yes,” you say, drawing the word out with deliberate slowness, watching his reaction with growing satisfaction. “That’s exactly what I said.”

For a moment, he looks down, his confidence visibly faltering as his gaze flickers to the floor.

When his eyes find yours again, there’s no mistaking the uncertainty that shadows his features. His voice, usually playful and loud, now drops into a low, almost hesitant whisper. “But… what does that entail exactly?”

The vulnerability in his tone hits you like a jolt, so unlike him that it sends a fresh wave of heat through your body. He’s not playing now.

"You know what it entails" you say softly, raising an eyebrow teasingly. Moments tick by in silence as he stares at you.

“Alright,” he breathes out, but there’s a catch in his voice, betraying the calm he’s trying to project. "Deal," he says, but there’s a tremor in the word, his body betraying just how much this is affecting him

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to centre himself, trying to get a grip on the intensity swirling inside him.

“You sure you don’t wanna back out?” you ask, hiking your skirt up slightly, reaching for your panties.

His eyes follow the movement, briefly distracted before snapping back to your face, his jaw clenching with determination. “No, a deal is a deal”

His hands reach for his jeans, pulling the belt out its loop and pushing them down along with his boxers past his hips, his cock already hard, springs out.

Your pussy throbs as you stare in surprise, thinking that you’d call his bluff, his cock is perfect. Thick, long and pretty just like him, he was bigger than you imagined.

“Fuck, Woo...” you bite your lip, as you you feel your panties sticking to you.

Wooyoung’s breath catches as he sees the desire in your eyes, blood pumping into his cock even more, his voice lowering an octave, “Come and sit on my cock then” he pumps his cock at few times, gauging your reaction.

You whimper internally, hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties, and slowly pulling them down.

The air whips at the wetness gathered between your legs and Wooyoung’s heart pounds in his chest, unable to believe this was really happening.

Turning around so you’re facing the television, you lower yourself down onto his lap, your hand grasps the base of his cock firmly, feeling the silky smooth skin.

He bites his lip to stop a groan from spilling out, as you slide his cock through your slick lubricating it, the sensations turning you on even more than you care to admit.

He grips the edge of the couch tightly, his knuckles whitening as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded.

His breathing grows heavier, and for a moment, his eyes flutter shut, long lashes casting shadows over his flushed cheeks, but snap open when he feels the head of his cock begin to slip inside you. He sucks in a sharp breath “You’re so tight and warm”

Slowly, inch by inch you sink deeper onto his cock, a slight burn from stretching you open. Somewhere deep in your mind, you were screaming at yourself for crossing this boundary with Wooyoung.

You had no idea how you’d let it happen. What had possessed you to even suggest this? Maybe it was temporary insanity. Or maybe it was just him, his playful grin, his bratty ways and his eyes that dared to break all the rules.

And now, there was no going back. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to. Wooyoung’s face contorts with a mixture of pleasure and concentration as he feels himself slowly disappear inside you.

"Shit, Y/n…" he whispers, voice low, rough around the edges, as if he’s fighting to keep it together.

“Focus Woo” you goad, "this is about the game, not my pussy"

Right… game,” he mutters, voice uncharacteristically shaky. His hand reaches for the controller, but his movements are slower, less sure than usual.

He sits back, pretending to focus on the screen, but you can see the way his fingers fumble slightly on the buttons, like he’s not really paying attention.

He’s just as rattled as you are. Slowly, he gets back into game mode, a grin forming on his face, but every few seconds, his hips jerk upward gently thrusting into you, testing his own control.

You grit your teeth, clenching around him, a soft moan spilling out. He lets out a strangled moan when he feels you clench, his fingers slipping on the controller for a split second before he regains his grip “….shit” he groans, his voice strained. “Must...focus”

You chuckle, feeling somewhat victorious as you clench around his again. His hips buck upwards sharply, making you both gasp, and he loses his train of thought for a moment as his character takes a hit on the screen. “Ahhh….that’s... cheating” he pants.

“Stop thrusting, Woo” you breathe out. You shouldn’t be enjoying his cock, and every movement he makes, just makes more of your juices run down to his balls.

“I can’t help it, you’re the one sitting on my cock, and it feels good, it’s driving me insane”

His words make your pussy clench again, you let out a strangled gasp. "It feels good for me too”, you admit, the delicious stretch of his cock inside you, becomes too much to bear.

Reaching between your legs, your fingers slowly rub your clit in circles, you lean back against his chest.

A soft moan leaves your lips. Wooyoung’s attention snaps from the TV to your face. His heart beats wildly against your back, eyes darkening, lingering on you for a moment. “Please… Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice rough, deep ,he’s not even sure what he’s asking.

You tilt your head, forcing a smirk to play at your lips as you meet his gaze. “I thought you said you could beat me with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back,” you tease, your voice light and mocking, but it trembles just slightly as you continue to play with your clit. “So this should be easy for you.”

His breathing is shallow, and there’s something primal, something dangerous, in the way he watches you. Wooyoung lets out a low, guttural moan that vibrates through the room, and you feel it settle deep in your stomach.

His fingers fly over the controller, pounding the buttons with quick, frustrated taps, while his eyes remain laser-focused on the screen.

He’s completely absorbed, but the way his hips keep shifting upward, Woo,” you warn, your voice strained as you try to steady yourself, “stay still.”

Wooyoung bites his lip, trying desperately to hold still, his body trembles with the effort, muscles tense. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he focuses with determination even as his cock twitches, aching for friction.

He grits his teeth, as he gets closer to victory on the game. “I’m….I’m almost….there”

And that’s when you lift your hips, and slam yourself back down on to his cock.

His eyes roll back, his body going rigid, letting out a loud moan. “Fuck!” his hand tighten on the controller, as his character self-destructs. His face is a mask of pleasure and frustration “No….”

He glares up at you. “Cheater” he accuses playfully, reaching out to grab your hips, thrusting forcefully into you, making you both moan out loud. “Oh fuck!

He grins wickedly, his fingers digging into your hips, lifting you up and down on his lap, as he fucks into you. “Well….this is your punishment for cheating” he breathes hotly against your neck, nibbling on your skin.

You gasp sharply “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah” he starts to pound into you relentlessly “I’ll show you who’s really the winner here”

“Oh shit!” your hand snakes around the back of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours, he meets your gaze, watching as the pleasure contorts on your face, your eyes close to the sensations.

“Look at me” he commands, “ look at me while I fuck you” he presses his forehead against yours.

“Mmmm, Wooyoung!” you open your eyes, to look at him.

He grins wolfishly, gripping you tighter, “Say it again,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours with desire “say my name….”

“Wooyoung” you tremble around him, he lips presses against yours, kissing you fiercely, his tongue entering your mouth, “Fuck…...I love hearing you say my name like that” he breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“I’m gonna cum” your nails grip his forearm.

He thrusts into you a few more times “Cum for me, pretty” his own release imminent “I want to feel you squeeze around me”

Your orgasm explodes from you, hands clinging to him tightly, he lets out a loud groan feeling your tight walls clamp around him, triggering his own release.

He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin, as he shudders and pulses inside you, releasing his seed.

You slowly come down from your high, breathing returning to normal, he unwinds his arms from around your waist “Sorry…...I got a little carried away” he murmurs softly.

“What are you sorry for? I suggested the cockwarming?” you mutter, face blushing.

He looks at you, a hint of guilt. “I know...but I didn’t mean to be so rough” he sighs, running a hand through his dark locks.

You smile softly, “I kinda liked it, I didn’t know my bestie had it in him” you tease gently as you stroke his cheek.

His face splits into a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners “Oh really?”

“Hmmmm” you grin “Or such a big cock” you whisper in seductively in his ear,

He laughs, arms wrapping back around your waist, kissing your lips putting all his emotions into it, “Well...if you liked it, I guess we'll have to do it more often”

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

**Disclaimer: All characters in these stories are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the members.

-

Love Wooyoung and Ateez? Know someone that does? Why not gift a bias pack from my K-pop shop!

[kifinally]

3RACHA — SUPER BOARD

[kifinally]

seonghwa?!!

The way this made me stop dead in my tracks. can’t wait to read the fics inspired by these.

[kifinally]

Serendipty | Chapter Twelve

Link to Chapter index here

Pairing : Jimin x afab! reader

Summary : In Paris, Y/N meets Jimin, a free-spirited traveller. Their love blossoms, but Jimin suddenly vanishes. Heartbroken, Y/N returns to Seoul and becomes a fashion editor. Fate twists as Jimin reappears as her demanding boss. Y/N must navigate their past, uncover the truth, and decide if she can trust him again.

Genre : slow burn, angsty, CEO Boss Jimin au,

Words Count : 3.3k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

“So,” Jimin’s voice cut in, low and a little rough around the edges. “What’s your article on?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, sizing you up with a look that, if you didn’t know better, you’d call disinterested. But those eyes, they never missed a thing.

“Oh, um—street fashion.” You managed to keep your tone steady, but your fingers betrayed you, tapping a nervous rhythm on the edge of your notepad.

A glimmer of excitement lit your face despite the tension; this topic had always been close to your heart, and Seoul’s streets were a goldmine.

Jimin’s mouth twitched, almost like he was fighting a smirk. “What’s your first step?” he asked, studying you with an intensity that bordered on impatience, like he was testing how serious you were.

You took a steadying breath, pulling yourself together. “Well, I started by researching the origins of street fashion here. Now, I need to explore the different styles in person.” Your mind was already racing with plans, ideas unfurling like sketches in your head.

His brows lifted slightly, a hint of challenge glinting in his eyes. “You’ll need to hit the streets for that part,” he pointed out, crossing his arms and waiting, as if daring you to back down.

“I will,” you replied, chin lifting, though his stare made you feel exposed. You hadn’t expected him to press so much, he’d hardly taken you seriously since the day you started here.

“Good.” He adjusted his stance, then, without warning, motioned for you to follow. “Let’s go.”

You blinked, almost stumbling over your own words. “Wait—now?”

His dark eyes sparkled, clearly enjoying the catch he’d thrown you off balance. “Yes, now.” His tone carried a quiet authority that was hard to argue with. He arched a brow.

“I need to get permission from Chae-Won” Your mind scrambled, picturing Chae-Won’s usual strict face at the mere mention of skipping out of work without her approval. But he was already striding towards the door, barely waiting for your response.

“Lucky for you, I’m the boss here,” he threw over his shoulder, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

One tense, silent cab ride later, you found yourself at a small coffee shop nestled on the corner of a bustling street, with Jimin sitting across from you, looking as aloof and unreadable as ever.

Outside, Seoul’s vibrant street fashion scene paraded by in a whirl of textures, colours, and bold silhouettes that made you itch to capture every look.

People moved in clusters, each group like a mini runway show in motion.

Oversized sweaters in blinding neon shades, chunky statement jewellery, the effortless “Seoulite” style blending vintage charm with modern touches. K-pop-inspired outfits flashed by in every direction, each look a carefully curated mix of designer pieces and everyday streetwear.

You were engrossed, jotting notes furiously, when his voice broke the quiet between you. “Did you always want to work for a fashion magazine?”

You blinked, his question catching you off guard. His voice was cool, almost clinical, yet there was something genuine in it.

His dark stare met yours, holding steady, making your heart skip despite yourself.

“No,” you replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I sort of fell into it. But I do enjoy it.” You hadn’t expected to admit that to him, and you could feel a blush creeping up your neck as you looked away.

“What did you want to be?” His tone was probing now, laced with curiosity he was failing to mask.

He leaned forward just a fraction, fingers interlaced on the table, his face softened by the afternoon light.

For a split second, you thought about telling him the truth, but the vulnerability of that truth made your stomach clench. "Umm, an artist," you replied vaguely, hoping that answer would satisfy him.

In reality, you yearned to become a fashion designer, but you weren't ready to share that dream with Jimin just yet.

“Do you paint?” he pressed, the corner of his mouth lifting in what could almost be called a smile, a rare, fleeting moment of interest.

You set your notepad down, momentarily letting the wave of nostalgia pull you under. “Not anymore.”

Your fingers traced the edge of the paper absently. “I don’t really have time for it, but I enjoy fashion.” You glanced up at him, finding him regarding you. “Your aunt was one of my idols.”

Something shifted in his gaze, just for a second. “You must’ve been disappointed to find me as CEO, then,” he said, voice smooth but cool, like he was testing the waters.

You cleared your throat, his question throwing you off balance, but you managed a smooth response. “No, not at all. I’m sure you’re just as capable as Lee Bora.”

The words came out measured, diplomatic, but you offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping he’d hear the honesty there too. “But I imagine you’ve got a lot of people just waiting for you to fail. You must feel a certain pressure… proving them wrong.”

His eyes lingered on you, and for a split second, he looked almost… moved. The hard edge softened in his features, something vulnerable breaking through, as if he wasn’t expecting anyone to see him that clearly. But just as quickly, he closed off, a mask of indifference slipping back over his face.

You swallowed, second-guessing everything you’d just said. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No one has ever really understood that side of it,” he murmured, almost to himself.

His brows knitted together as if he hadn’t expected you, of all people, to recognize the weight of his role. His eyes lifted to yours again, and he nodded towards your notepad. “Let me see your notes.”

“What? They’re just notes,” you protested, gripping the pages a bit tighter.

He lifted a brow, unimpressed. “I’d like to see them anyway.”

Hesitating, you finally handed them over, your fingers brushing against his as he took them, and your pulse leaped at the familiar touch.

He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration as he read, his gaze skating over your scribbled ideas and observations.

Now and then, his expression shifted, his eyebrows quirking or his lips pressing together thoughtfully, making you wonder what he found so interesting.

“Just as I thought,” he muttered, more to himself than you.

Your heart gave a sharp thud. “Is… something wrong?” You leaned forward, a mix of nerves and curiosity pressing you to know what was running through his mind.

Jimin looked up, his gaze locking onto yours, an intensity there that hadn’t been present a minute ago. “I have a proposal for you,” he said, his tone turning serious, an unexpected resolve hardening his jaw.

Your mind raced, his sudden interest and that look on his face stirring something unsettling in you. “A proposal?”

He nodded, setting the notepad down and crossing his arms, his gaze unwavering. “An article on me.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard right. “An article? On you?” Your eyebrows shot up, confusion written all over your face.

“Yes.” His tone was as cool as ever, but there was something different, an almost desperate edge beneath the indifference. “Think of it as an exercise in authenticity. Show the readers who I am, beyond the title.”

You studied him, trying to read between the lines, to understand what he really wanted. “Shouldn’t Namjoon take that on?” You held his gaze, though your heart had started to pound.

The idea of writing about Jimin, of peeling back those layers you’d once known so intimately, brought a swell of discomfort, maybe even something raw.

"I chose you," he said, brushing off your protest like it was nothing. His gaze, unwavering and intense, a determination in his eyes that made your heart stutter.

For just a second, it felt like you had your old Jimin back, the one who’d look at you like you were the only person in the room. But that was just wishful thinking, he simply didn’t recognise you now.

That truth hit harder than you wanted to admit, hollowing out the small, hopeful ache in your chest.

Writing an article on him was the last thing you wanted. To put down words about a man who had no memory of you, when you could recall every part of him, every expression, every soft whisper, it felt like standing on a cliff edge. You weren’t sure you could handle it.

The brief crack in your expression must have shown because Jimin’s lips quirked, his amusement barely hidden as if he sensed your inner struggle.

“Are you too scared to do it?” he challenged, his voice steady and almost amused, mistaking your hesitation for simple nerves. He couldn’t have been more wrong, and he had no idea.

“No,” you said, willing your voice to stay steady. Even as your heart raced and your mind rebelled, your jaw set with determination. Whatever this was, you’d see it through.

“Good.” He didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll start on Monday.” There was no room for debate in his tone. His decision was made, and a spark of intrigue glimmered in his eyes as he watched your reaction.

“Monday?” The word slipped out in surprise, your eyes widening as you took in the full scope of what he was asking.

Jimin gave a single, decisive nod. “Yes. You’ll shadow me for the week. Come up with questions, things you think the readers will want to know about me. And don’t waste my time.” His tone was sharp, reminding you he was your boss now, and a far cry from the man you’d known in Paris.

“A whole week?” You swallowed, feeling the weight of the days ahead press down on you. Could you really handle being that close to him for so long, knowing he didn’t remember a single moment you’d shared?

His lips curved with a hint of arrogance. “Consider it like winning the lottery. Few people get the chance to be around me for that length of time.”

His words dripped with a confidence that cut, a reminder that the Jimin you once loved was lost in the past.

This was the Jimin who was your boss, cold and aloof, a stranger wrapped in the same familiar features.

You bit back the pang in your chest and rolled your eyes, his arrogance thankfully snapping you back to reality.

Maybe it was for the best he’d given you that reminder, helping you remember to keep your emotions firmly in check.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, the sarcasm slipping out before you could rein it in.

“What was that?” His sharp gaze zeroed in, eyebrows raised, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You shot him a saccharine smile, hiding every frayed feeling behind it. “Can’t wait,” you replied, your tone bright as you forced yourself to play along.

--

Jimin’s sharp footsteps sliced through the silence, echoing off the glass and steel walls of the office, each step punctuated by the tightness in his shoulders and the sharp crease in his brow.

Sunlight angled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows that flickered over his tense jaw as he paced, his frustration as palpable as the stale coffee scent lingering in the air.

“Don’t look at me like that, Chae,” he bit out, voice low, worn at the edges, like he’d been holding back for far too long. His eyes locked on hers, unyielding, a dare glittering in their depths.

Chae-Won, in her usual poised calm, didn’t so much as flinch. She leaned back, crossing her legs with deliberate slowness, her dark eyes steady as she took him in.

“A week, Jimin? You’re taking my staff for a whole week,” she said, her voice smooth, but carrying an edge he knew better than to ignore. “You’re disrupting everything I’ve planned.”

Jimin stopped pacing, a flicker of irritation passing over his face before he fixed her with an unreadable stare.

His hands came to rest on his hips, giving her a tight nod. “You’ve got a solid team, Chae. If you need coverage, ask Namjoon.” His tone softened, almost patronising, a calculated patience that only made her expression harden.

Her polished exterior slipped for a second; her lips pressed together, and her fingers tapped impatiently on the armrest, nails drumming an uneven beat. “That's not the point Jimin,” she murmured, holding his gaze, her voice taut.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then what is it?” he shot back, letting the words hang there, watching her carefully.

She hesitated, tension creasing her brow as she looked away, her gaze fixing on the cityscape beyond the windows.

When she spoke, her voice had dropped, carrying a hint of something vulnerable she couldn’t fully hide. “Why her?” she finally asked, trying to keep her tone steady. “Of all people...why her?”

For a moment, he just looked at her. He leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered her. “Are you jealous?”

Chae-Won scoffed, a brittle laugh slipping past her lips as she shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Jealous? Hardly,” she retorted, her voice icy with deflection.

"Hmm," Jimin gazes thoughtfully at her. “Maybe I’ve been too focused on the Durand project,” he murmured, almost to himself, eyes thoughtful. “We’ll talk this week. But Y/N stays where I assigned her.” His voice dropped to a quiet finality, letting her know the decision was closed.

Her lips thinned, but she lowered her head in silent acknowledgment. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, a grudging respect weaving into her tone, though the hard edge in her eyes hadn’t softened.

-

Monday arrived, thick with tension, and you found yourself in the back seat of Jimin’s sleek black car, his silhouette framed against the city as he scanned through a folder of documents.

The silence stretched heavy and uncomfortable, only broken by the hum of the engine and the soft rustling of papers as he adjusted his watch, avoiding your gaze as if you weren’t even there.

Finally, he looked up, his tone clipped, businesslike. “We’re meeting with advertisers. I want you to stay quiet and take notes.” His words were brisk, dismissive, as he tightened his tie, his eyes flicking away from yours before you could even nod.

You kept your response short. “Understood.” The car moved on in silence, and you tried to ignore the faint resentment settling over you, folding your hands tightly in your lap, fingers pressed together until your knuckles went pale.

The meeting room buzzed with a sterile sort of energy, the white walls too bright, the polished wood of the conference table perfectly reflecting Jimin’s tense reflection.

He sat across from Mr. Choi, his posture effortlessly confident, though you caught the slight crease in his brow that meant he was preparing to fight his way through something he hadn’t expected.

Mr. Choi, a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard, leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his pristine suit jacket.

There was something steely in his gaze, his jaw set. “Mr. Park,” he began with a tone that sounded final before he even finished. “We’ve decided not to advertise with your magazine.”

A flicker of surprise tightened the line of Jimin’s mouth. He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing just slightly, masking his confusion with a calm that only heightened the tension. “Why not?” he asked, his voice smooth, laced with a hint of something darker beneath.

Mr. Choi shifted, his cufflinks glinting under the overhead lights as he regarded Jimin steadily. “There are…rumours of discord in your company,” he said slowly, as if choosing each word carefully. “It’s enough to make us hesitate. Investing in an unstable magazine would be unwise, from a business perspective.”

The response hit Jimin like a shot to the gut, but he hid it well, his fingers pressing into the mahogany table. “Rumours?” His voice sharpened, frustration slipping out. “Where did you hear this?” He leaned forward, his gaze hardening, the slight twitch of his jaw betraying a flicker of anger that he could barely keep under control.

Mr. Choi glanced at his watch, impatience flickering in his eyes. “Regardless of where I heard it, there’s truth in these concerns, Mr. Park. Our decision stands.”

Jimin held his gaze, refusing to back down, but the disappointment was plain in his eyes now. “Let me assure you, those rumours are entirely unfounded. The magazine is thriving,” he said, each word carefully measured, his tone almost too calm. “We’re more than capable of moving forward.”

But Mr. Choi only offered a polite nod, unbending. “I wish you well, but I’m afraid that isn’t enough to change our position.” He stood up, extending a hand before quickly retracting it, his decision already final. With a quiet nod, he left the room.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Mr. Choi was gone.

You watched Jimin as he sat there, silent, staring at the door, his fingers tapping against the table with a barely restrained tension.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly, the weight of the meeting pressing into his expression.

-

The drive back to the office was like being trapped in a thunderstorm, an electric charge crackling through the cramped air of the car.

Jimin sat beside you, rigid and brooding, his dark eyes fixed somewhere outside the tinted window, yet clearly distant.

The muscle in his jaw pulsed with a quiet fury that he seemed determined to hold in check.

You clutched your notepad, fingers tense as you absently clicked the pen in your hand, trying to suppress the nagging urge to fill the silence.

It was suffocating, pressing in from every side, and Jimin’s presence only added weight to it.

You shot a sideways glance at him, curiosity edging out caution. His expensive suit was immaculate, of course, every line and fold precisely where it should be, just like him, you thought bitterly.

Controlled. Unbreakable.

“Things don’t always go according to plan,” he said suddenly, a sigh slipping through his tight lips as his gaze flicked briefly toward you.

His voice was low, resigned, and laced with a bitterness that made your stomach tighten.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, looking down at your notes, then back at him, bracing yourself against his glacial stare.

You meant it, more than you’d admit, even though he’d never understand the reason. It was an apology that stretched further than this moment, wrapping around years he didn’t remember.

Jimin scoffed, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint sneer as he glanced at you, his stare unforgiving. “Sorry? Did you spread the rumours?” The accusation was cold, a dagger flung with an indifference that still managed to sting.

 

“No,” you replied, your voice steady but soft. Meeting his gaze, you held it, determined not to let him reduce you to a scapegoat. “I didn’t.”

The response seemed to disarm him for a moment, his guarded stare flickering as he shifted in his seat. His shoulders relaxed—a barely-there softening that gave you a glimpse beneath his carefully held armor. “Then what are you apologizing for?”

Your throat felt tight as you stammered, “I… I was just being empathetic.” Heat rose to your face, and you looked away, ashamed of the vulnerability woven into your tone. “I get how frustrating it must be… chasing something only to find it slipping away, time after time.”

He paused, his gaze piercing, and for an instant, something between the two of you softened, something silent but undeniable.

Then, just as quickly, he blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Empathy,” he muttered, scoffing almost imperceptibly as he straightened his cuffs with a sharp tug.

“Doesn’t get you anywhere in this industry. I don’t stop for things that don’t matter. If a door closes, I kick it down.”

---

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[kifinally]

Serendipity | Chapter Twelve

Link to Chapter index here

Pairing : Jimin x afab! reader

Summary : In Paris, Y/N meets Jimin, a free-spirited traveller. Their love blossoms, but Jimin suddenly vanishes. Heartbroken, Y/N returns to Seoul and becomes a fashion editor. Fate twists as Jimin reappears as her demanding boss. Y/N must navigate their past, uncover the truth, and decide if she can trust him again.

Genre : slow burn, angsty, CEO Boss Jimin au,

Words Count : 2.6k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

Later that day, Jimin sat in the quiet solitude of his CEO office, high above the buzz of the magazine’s bustling floors.

The usual sounds of typing and quiet conversation didn’t reach him here; it was just him, the looming deadline, and the oppressive silence that only heightened the pressure pressing down on his chest.

He stared at the mock-ups sprawled across his desk, his fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood.

It all looked perfect on the surface, yet there was something missing—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

The sleek skyline of Seoul stretched out behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but even the view did little to calm the storm brewing in his head.

"We’re cutting it too close," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, low. He needed a fresh perspective, something to pull the issue together before it was too late. Without thinking, his hand reached for his phone. "Namjoon, can you come to my office please?"

He was on a different floor, working remotely on his latest article, but Jimin knew he wouldn’t mind being interrupted. Namjoon was Jimin’s go-to writer, his ace.

Every article Namjoon had written for the magazine had been nothing short of exceptional, insightful, compelling, and always with a fresh perspective.

A quick call later, Namjoon entered the office, the quiet click of the door signalling his arrival.

He was tall, composed, his gaze sharp as he immediately noticed the scattered drafts. Jimin barely looked up from his desk, his fingers tapping irritably on the wood.

“I need your eyes on this,” Jimin said, pushing the mock-ups toward him without preamble. His voice was taut, laced with a frustration he didn’t bother to hide. “The issue’s close to deadline, and something’s missing. I don’t know what, but it’s not right.”

Namjoon took the drafts without hesitation, sliding into the chair across from Jimin. He studied the layouts in silence, his eyes moving methodically over the content.

His thoughtful expression remained unchanged for a long moment, the quiet hum of the office a stark contrast to Jimin’s growing impatience.

Then, Namjoon looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked Y/N,” he said, his tone casual, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

At the sound of your name, Jimin’s entire body stiffened. His fingers stopped their incessant tapping, and his gaze snapped up to meet Namjoon’s.

“Why would I ask her?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, laced with a confusion that bordered on irritation.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the shift in Jimin’s mood. “Well, it was her idea,” he replied cautiously, his gaze flicking briefly to the side before returning to Jimin’s. “The concept for this issue, it came from her.”

Jimin stared at him, the words not fully sinking in. Your idea? His pulse quickened, a sharp heat pricking at the back of his neck. His mouth twisted in disbelief. “Since when?”

Namjoon hesitated, as if measuring his words carefully. He shifted his weight, settling into the chair across from Jimin. “Chae-won had the team pitch ideas a few weeks ago,” he explained. “Y/N’s proposal won. Fairly.”

Jimin’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest defensively.

"Is that what she's been saying?" His voice dropped, the suspicion in his tone unmistakable, like a coiled snake ready to strike.

Namjoon held his ground, though his posture was noticeably more guarded. “No, sir. She hasn’t mentioned it. You can ask the team, they were all there.” He paused, meeting Jimin’s eyes with steady resolve. “Y/N still has her notes if you want to see them.”

Jimin’s fingers curled into fists, his knuckles white with tension, while his foot resumed its impatient tapping against the polished floor.

He didn’t like this, this gnawing sense of being caught off guard, left in the dark about something that involved his own team. But more than that, it involved you.

His jaw tightened as frustration clawed at him. You had been a thorn in his side since the moment he met you. A constant source of irritation. And now this.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his mind whirling as he processed the revelation. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “Fine,” he muttered, though his voice was still laced with irritation. “I’ll deal with it.”

-

Hours later, after a long session of reworking the issue with Namjoon’s help, Jimin felt some of the initial tension ease.

The layouts were starting to come together, the content finally shaping into something he could stand behind.

But even as the pressure lifted, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

Namjoon’s words echoed in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t shake the unsettling curiosity gnawing at him.

At some point, Chae-won joined him in his office, her sharp eyes scanning the finalised drafts with her usual precision. Jimin admired her work ethic, but there was a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

As she reviewed the pages, Jimin leaned forward, studying her closely. Suddenly, he broke the silence, his voice calm but tinged with an edge. "Chae-won, did you lie to me?" His eyes were locked on her, searching for any tell, any shift in her expression.

Chae-won’s head snapped up. She froze, her wide eyes betraying the shock she tried so hard to mask.

A flicker of guilt passed over her face, but she swallowed it down, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her hand trembled as she straightened the papers on her desk, trying desperately to regain control.

"What?" she stammered, voice thin, like she’d been caught off guard. Her breath hitched slightly, the soft rustling of paper betraying her shaky fingers.

Jimin didn’t blink. "The concept for the issue," he clarified, voice low, steady.

His expression stayed stern, but the crease between his brows softened, just a little, like he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to be angry.

Chae-won exhaled, relief flooding her features as her shoulders sagged.

"Oh, that," she muttered, almost too quickly. But her eyes couldn’t stay still, darting to the floor, the walls, anywhere but Jimin’s intense gaze.

She could feel his eyes on her, dissecting her every movement, waiting for her to slip.

Jimin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he caught the flicker of discomfort in her eyes. "So you did?"

His voice was quieter now, but there was a thread of disbelief woven through it.

Chae-won’s mouth twitched at the corners, a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She shrugged, a casual tilt of her shoulder as if none of this mattered.

"What does it matter?" Her tone was light, dismissive, though her fingers betrayed her, fidgeting with the pen on the desk, twisting it between her fingers like it held her secrets. "It got you what you wanted, didn’t it? The magazine has a great partnership now, and Durand’s impressed. Isn’t that enough?" She tilted her head, a hint of smugness creeping into her expression, the corners of her lips curling upward.

Jimin blinked. "You’re right," he said slowly. "Durand did like the idea, but that’s not the point." the disappointment clear in his voice. "But, I don’t like being lied to."

Chae-won’s pout deepened, her eyes widening in a practiced look of innocence.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft, almost pleading. "I didn’t do it maliciously, Jimin," she insisted. "I was just...protecting Y/N. You’ve been so hard on her lately, and she’s a good worker."

At the mention of your name, her lips curled in to a sneer, ever so slightly as she spoke.

Jimin’s eyes darkened, his mind turning over her words. "Maybe you’re right," he admitted after a pause, though his voice had cooled significantly. "But taking credit for someone else’s idea isn’t leading by example, Chae-won. What kind of message does that send to the team?" He raised an eyebrow.

She clasped her hands in front of her, her smile faltering. "I know," she murmured, her voice tinged with something that could have passed for regret. "I’m sorry."

Jimin leaned back in his chair, his gaze still pinned on her. "We need to make this right," he said firmly, brow furrowed as he thought through the implications.

Chae-won tilted her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "What did you have in mind?" Her tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Jimin’s expression didn’t change. "I don’t know yet," he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. "Maybe I’ll be more present in the department over the next few weeks. I’ll figure something out."

Chae-won scoffed softly, her lips pulling into a tight line. "Do you not trust me?" Her voice sharpened, a flicker of annoyance breaking through the mask of professionalism.

She wasn’t used to being questioned like this, and it showed in the way her eyes hardened, the way her chin tilted defiantly.

Jimin’s jaw clenched as he held her gaze. "This isn’t about you," he replied, keeping his tone even, though the tension was palpable. "It’s about the magazine."

He leaned back in his chair, creating distance between them.

Chae-won’s lips thinned, her dissatisfaction evident in the way she crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping against her bicep.

"Okay," she muttered, barely audible. But her eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker lingering beneath the surface, a shadow of resentment that Jimin didn’t catch.

-

In the days that followed, the magazine’s latest issue hit the stands, and with it came an air of anticipation that buzzed through the office.

Jimin, despite his outward calm, couldn’t help the quick glances he kept sneaking at the sales data.

His heart beat faster with each update, the excitement and tension warring inside him. This issue mattered, more than he cared to admit.

The energy in the office was palpable, the entire team hanging on to every update like it held their collective future.

Subtle glances passed between them, the kind of silent communication that came from working under pressure together.

Namjoon sat back in his chair, arms crossed with a grin that spoke volumes of his satisfaction as they huddled around the conference table.

The numbers were mixed at first, like a slow burn that left Jimin’s stomach unsettled, each refresh of the data gnawing at him. But by the third day, there was a shift.

Sales surged, and Jimin could feel the tension in his chest start to ease. The issue was gaining traction. Relief swept over the room as the team began to see the fruits of their efforts.

Namjoon’s grin widened, his deep voice carrying across the table. “Looks like the changes paid off,” he said, eyes bright with pride. A round of nods followed, and Jimin found himself mirroring that pride, the weight on his shoulders lighter.

Jimin leaned forward, his fingers tapping the surface of the table softly. “We couldn’t have done it without everyone’s hard work,” he said, his tone warm, sincere, as he gave credit where it was due.

His team exchanged smiles, some of them subtle, others more enthusiastic, basking in the well-earned recognition.

As the days rolled on, the positive feedback from critics and readers alike poured in, each glowing review sending the team higher. But Jimin, ever the strategist, didn’t want to rest on their laurels. He needed to maintain momentum.

The next morning, he arrived unannounced on your floor, his steps deliberate as he entered the department.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the surprised looks that followed his arrival like a ripple across a still pond.

Chae-Won, ever the first to react, rushed forward, her face a perfect picture of composure, though her eyes betrayed the slightest flicker of surprise.

“Sir, I wasn’t expecting you today,” she said, her voice breathy, as if his sudden presence had thrown her off balance. She straightened her blouse, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

Jimin’s expression remained cool, unreadable. He thrust his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I’m trying something different today,” he announced, the words hanging in the air. “I’m going to shadow the staff. I want to see what everyone is capable of.”

A ripple of unease spread through the room. The tension was tangible, the kind that made every rustle of paper sound too loud.

Glances shot back and forth, wide-eyed, as people shifted nervously in their seats.

The thought of being under the direct gaze of the CEO had them all on edge, and Jimin could see it. He didn’t need to say anything more, the impact was immediate.

Chae-Won’s lips twitched downward before she quickly plastered on a smile, tight and controlled.

“Oh, great,” she said, her voice higher than usual. “Do you want me to choose someone for you to shadow?” Her tone was casual, but there was a hint of desperation behind her offer, a need to control the situation before it slipped from her grasp.

Jimin shook his head, his tone firm. “No need. I already have someone in mind.”

For a split second, Chae-Won’s smile faltered, the disappointment in her eyes barely masked. But she quickly recovered, her posture straightening as she nodded. “Of course, sir,” she replied, voice dripping with false enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, you were buried in research, oblivious to the stir his arrival had caused.

You didn’t even notice him until he cleared his throat, the deep sound jolting you back to the present.

Your heart leapt to your throat, and you stood up abruptly, bowing quickly in a flustered panic.

“My apologies, sir. I didn’t see you,” you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to steady your breathing.

Jimin’s eyes lingered on you, studying you with a blank expression, his head tilting slightly as if he were trying to figure you out.

You held your breath, wondering what he was thinking, but his face gave nothing away. “I’m shadowing staff today,” he said flatly, the tone more of an order than an explanation. “I want to understand how ideas are created and how the team works.”

Your heart dropped, the implications of his words settling in uncomfortably. He couldn’t possibly mean... No, not you.

He didn’t wait for you to speak, eyes locked on yours. “I’m shadowing you,” he announced, his voice firm, the decision final.

Your stomach twisted. Of all the people he could’ve picked, why you? Out of everyone, this was the last thing you needed, the last thing your heart could handle.

You scrambled for an out, your voice tight. “I don’t think I’d be very interesting to shadow,” you said quickly, forcing a tight smile. “I have an article to write, nothing too exciting.” Your tone was light, trying to make the situation seem as mundane as possible, hoping it would change his mind.

But his expression remained unmoved, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

“My mind is made up,” he said, the authority in his voice unmistakable. He shifted his weight, his presence commanding the space around you. “Besides, I can help with the article.”

Your forced smile tightened, though your pulse raced beneath your calm exterior. “Yes, sir,” you replied, your tone laced with resignation, the weight of his decision sinking in.

There was no escape. The office buzzed around you, but all you could feel was the gravity of his proximity, pulling you into a situation you weren’t sure you were ready for.

-

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

If you enjoyed this chapter and would like to support my work, please consider buying me a coffee! You will find some first access teasers to up-coming one shots!

If you want tagging in my fics please make sure you have your age somewhere on your bio, I block ageless and blank profiles

[kifinally]

the backwards cap. the sunglasses. the fit. his tan skin. his neck. that SMIRK?! HELLO?!

[kifinally]

Serendipity | Chapter Nine

Link to Chapter index here

Pairing : Jimin x afab! reader

Summary : In Paris, Y/N meets Jimin, a free-spirited traveller. Their love blossoms, but Jimin suddenly vanishes. Heartbroken, Y/N returns to Seoul and becomes a fashion editor. Fate twists as Jimin reappears as her demanding boss. Y/N must navigate their past, uncover the truth, and decide if she can trust him again.

Genre : slow burn, angsty, CEO Boss Jimin au,

Words Count : 3.6k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

Jimin’s sneer deepened as he cast a sharp glance at Chae-Won, his annoyance practically vibrating off him. “What on earth is she doing here?” he muttered, the disdain in his voice barely masked by the low volume.

Chae-Won, unruffled, met his pointed stare with the calmness of someone used to his moods. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady, her expression unfazed by his cold demeanour.

“I invited her,” she responded, her voice composed yet firm. “It’s important that our employees experience all aspects of the magazine, not just the work behind a desk. And she’s been producing exceptional work lately.” Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she added, “Perhaps instead of constantly favouring Kim Namjoon, you should give her articles a real chance.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he glanced around the venue, clearly searching for someone or something to distract him.

But the weight of Chae-Won’s words hung between them, tension simmering just beneath the surface.

He shot her a look, his eyes darkening with a warning glint. “Choose your words carefully,” he muttered, the edge in his voice unmistakable, a subtle threat dancing beneath the surface.

Chae-Won’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed despite the warning, her voice soft yet pointed. “You know I only speak the truth,” she said, a playful tone lacing her words, her confidence unwavering.

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes with exasperation. As much as he trusted her, one of the few people in the company he did, there were moments, like now, when even her judgment seemed questionable.

He shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking beneath him, his annoyance palpable as his gaze returned to the runway. “We’ll see,” he muttered, scepticism coating his words as if this situation was nothing more than a fleeting irritation.

Perched beside Chae-Won, you felt Jimin’s cold disdain wash over you, the weight of his gaze making it hard to breathe for a moment.

He didn’t recognise you. Didn’t care to. To him, you were just another faceless cog in the machine, someone easy to dismiss and forget.

The tension still simmered around you as the lights dimmed and the music swelled, signalling the start of the show.

The first model emerged, gliding down the runway with ethereal grace, her gown a cascade of delicate lace that seemed to float with each step.

Your breath caught in your throat, every movement was art, every detail of the dress painstakingly crafted, a true masterpiece.

Then came the next model, exuding a fierce, magnetic energy with each confident stride.

Clad in a tailored suit, they moved with an air of defiance, their smouldering gaze piercing through the audience. The suit, with its sharp lines and bold cuts, was the epitome of modern sophistication.

The crowd shifted, enraptured, every eye drawn to the unapologetic power radiating from the runway.

One by one, the models took the stage, each more striking than the last. A floral-patterned dress wove a whimsical dream across the runway, its fabric fluttering like petals in a breeze.

The next moment, an avant-garde creation swept through, its daring design sparking murmurs of awe and admiration from the fashion elite seated around you.

Every piece was a living, breathing testament to the creativity and meticulous craftsmanship that defined the fashion industry.

Your eyes drank in each design, heart racing as the artistry unfolded before you. The energy in the room was electric, every model, every outfit igniting something deep within you, something fierce, something restless.

The fire inside you roared to life, and for the first time in a long while, you felt powerful. Jimin’s icy indifference might linger in the air like a shadow, but you were ready. Ready to prove that you belonged here, that your voice had something to say.

-

The after-party buzzed with energy, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the soft hum of conversations between fashion elites.

Glittering chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, and laughter punctuated the low murmur of voices.

You trailed behind Jimin and Chae-Won, careful to keep your distance, evading his sharp glares while struggling to maintain your composure.

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat a reminder of the silent battle you faced just by being in his orbit.

The room was a swirling mass of power and prestige, designers you had idolised for years, industry titans who could make or break careers with a single word.

And at the centre of it all was Park Jimin, effortlessly commanding the space. His gaze swept across the crowd with a kind of arrogant disdain, as if weighing each person’s worth before dismissing them.

As he turned to Chae-Won, you watched his expression soften slightly, an almost rare occurrence. “I really liked the idea you proposed for next month’s edition,” he said, his voice low and smooth, betraying a hint of admiration.

Chae-Won’s cheeks flushed under the attention. “Thank you” she stammered, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her dress as she tried to appear composed.

“Yes, I’m genuinely impressed,” Jimin continued, his voice carrying that weighty authority that sent ripples through the room. “With any luck, it’ll show our readers how authentic we truly are.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Your idea. He was praising your idea, and yet, here you were, side-lined and invisible while Chae-Won soaked up his approval.

The betrayal stung like a physical blow, your fists clenching at your sides as your jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath your skin.

Chae-Won glanced at you, her eyes pleading, her expression urging you to stay silent. But the knot of frustration in your chest only tightened. How could she?

After everything, how could she stand there and take credit for something that wasn’t hers? You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, struggling to keep your emotions in check as Jimin’s gaze flicked toward you.

"Your team could learn a thing or two from you," Jimin said, his tone dripping with condescension. His eyes lingered on you for a second too long, sharp and dismissive, before turning back to Chae-Won.

She bowed slightly, her gratitude humble, but you could see the joy sparkling in her eyes. It made your blood boil.

The urge to storm over and confront her, to tell Jimin exactly who had come up with the idea, burned hot within you. But instead, you stood rooted in place, your body trembling with the effort to stay composed.

Jimin, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you, continued casually, “Keep up the good work. If the magazine does well with the next issue, we’ll discuss a more senior position.”

Chae-Won’s face lit up, her excitement barely contained. “Really?” she asked, her voice breathless with hope.

Jimin nodded, his tone detached and cool. “Of course.”

Your frustration peaked, eyebrows knitting together in disbelief. A promotion? Now she was being rewarded for stealing your work? This couldn’t be happening.

You glared at her, a silent accusation burning in your eyes. But before you could speak, Chae-Won’s voice cut through the air.

“Mr Park,” she began, leaning toward Jimin, her voice filled with excitement. “Do you remember that French designer you admired so much? I think I just spotted him.”

Her words pulled Jimin’s attention away from the brewing tension. His eyes lit up, momentarily distracted from the power play unfolding.

Chae-Won, ever the opportunist, used the moment to shift the focus, leaving you standing there, fury bubbling under your skin.

It wasn’t just the insult of your stolen idea, it was the way Jimin, the father of your child, stood there, oblivious to who you really were.

This version of him, detached and condescending, was a far cry from the man you once knew. You barely recognised him, and in this moment, you loathed him for it.

Jimin's eyes widen, his body stilling as if the entire room has quieted just for this moment.

His head swivels, scanning the crowd, his gaze sharp and searching. "Where?" The single word is laced with urgency, his voice lower, almost hushed but filled with a palpable eagerness that makes the air around you seem electric.

Chae-won doesn’t hesitate. Her hand lifts, fingers delicate but decisive, pointing across the room to the bar. There, standing effortlessly tall and poised, is the man in question.

Monsieur Durand.

The crowd around him seems to fade in comparison. Dark hair, thick and tousled in a way that looks both deliberate and carelessly perfect, frames his chiselled features.

His sharp jawline is shadowed by a light stubble that adds to his undeniable sex appeal.

With eyes as dark as midnight and smouldering with quiet intensity, he lifts a glass to his lips, savouring his drink like it’s a private pleasure.

His suit is impeccably tailored, moulding to his lean, muscular frame, oozing sophistication and danger at once. He doesn’t just exist in the room; he owns it.

Jimin’s gaze snaps back to Chae-won, his body practically vibrating with the unspoken plea for her to make the first move.

The desire to meet Durand is plain in the tightness of his features, the urgency in his stance. His determination is contagious, and even you feel the pull of the man’s magnetic presence.

Chae-won turns, her eyes gleaming as she catches your gaze, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Come on,” she beckons, her voice like a cat’s purr, as if this is a game only she can win.

Her hand flutters in a dismissive wave for you to follow. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” she adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes, feeling the tension wind tighter between the three of you, but you can’t deny the curiosity blooming in your chest. What exactly were you about to witness?

“I don’t speak French,” Jimin murmurs, the words quiet but tight, filled with a vulnerability you don’t often hear from him. His shoulders stiffen, and you can see the flicker of self-doubt cross his face.

You raise a brow, watching him closely. He’s spoken French before flawlessly, in fact.

But this was before the accident, before the amnesia. Your heart squeezes a little. This is not the Jimin you know.

Chae-won, ever the confident one, places a hand on his arm, her smile dazzling. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” she assures him, her voice like a gentle brush of reassurance, though the way her fingers linger on him feels more calculated than comforting.

He nods, releasing a tense breath. “Great,” he says, though the word sounds more resigned than relieved.

Without missing a beat, Chae-won strides toward the bar, her head held high, hips swaying in that way she always does when she knows eyes are on her.

She slides in next to Durand with the kind of grace you’d expect from someone who practices her entrances.

Durand turns slightly, his eyes flicking over her with mild curiosity, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His dark gaze settles on her, watching, waiting.

“Excuse me, Monsieur Durand,” she says, her voice smooth and confident, clearly aiming to make an impression.

Durand’s brow lifts slightly, the faintest trace of amusement on his face as he greets her. “Bonjour,” he replies, his tone polite, but there’s a quiet challenge in his eyes, like he’s measuring her up.

Chae-won’s confidence grows as she attempts to introduce Jimin. “J'ai introduit moi dans Monsieur Park,” ( I am 'entering' Mr. Park) she says with a practiced smile, completely oblivious to the disaster she’s just caused.

Durand’s expression shifts instantly, his brow furrows, his lips parting as if he can’t quite believe what he’s just heard. His eyes darken, a look of sheer confusion mixed with a touch of disbelief clouding his once calm demeanour.

Your stomach flips, did she just say she was entering Jimin? You clap a hand over your mouth, struggling to contain the laughter bubbling up.

Durand’s shock morphs into something less amused. His gaze sharpens, the polite detachment replaced by irritation.

He mutters something under his breath, too low to catch, but the way his grip tightens around his glass tells you enough. He is not impressed.

Jimin steps forward, his hand brushing Chae-won’s arm as he leans in, his voice urgent and low. “Tell him we’re happy to meet him,” he pleads, his tone almost panicked, clearly trying to salvage the situation.

Chae-won flicks her hair back, her confidence unwavering despite the wreckage she’s just caused. She turns back to Durand, her smile radiant, completely unaware that she’s about to make it even worse.

“Je suis excitée de te rencontrer,”( I am horny to meet you)  she says brightly.

The look on Durand’s face is pure gold, his eyes widen in pure shock, and for a split second, it looks like he might drop his glass.

His jaw tightens as he realises what she’s just said, the calm exterior cracking as disbelief sweeps across his features.

Durand’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and irritated. “Quel con, ces idiots!” he exclaims, his patience clearly snapped.

He shakes his head, muttering as he turns on his heel and strides away with an air of finality, not bothering to mask his contempt as he shoots them one last withering glance.

Jimin’s face pales as he watches the Frenchman disappear into the crowd. He grips Chae-won’s arm tighter, pushing her forward in a panic.

“What did you just say? Quick, get him back!” His voice is frantic, laced with disbelief, as if everything is slipping through his fingers.

Before Chae-Won can make another disastrous move, you swiftly step in front of her, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders.

You're done watching this spiral out of control. With your heart pounding, you channel every bit of confidence you have and make your move.

“Monsieur Durand,” you say in perfect French, your voice smooth and deliberate. “Please allow me to apologise on behalf of my supervisor. Her grasp of the French language is… limited.”

Monsieur Durand’s steps halt mid-turn, the tension in his posture easing as he looks back at you, interest replacing the irritation that had clouded his face moments before.

His dark eyes flicker with curiosity, the sharp edge of his earlier offense softening as he listens.

Jimin’s head snaps in your direction, his eyes wide with surprise. For a beat, he just stares, a flicker of wariness glinting in his expression.

“Lee Y/N,” he mutters, voice low, laced with something that sounds like a warning. His gaze locks on yours, and you can feel the weight of his silent question. What are you up to?

Chae-Won stands frozen to your right, her smile long gone, eyes narrowing into slits as she watches you take control.

There’s venom in her glare, the kind that almost burns. She’s humiliated, and you can feel the heat of it radiating off her in waves, but you don’t have time for that. Not now.

“Mr. Park was very eager to meet you,” you continue smoothly, maintaining your calm, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you focus on Durand.

His lips twitch, his sharp gaze assessing you with newfound interest. “Is that so?” he asks, his voice slower now, more measured. His irritation seems to melt away, curiosity taking its place.

You nod, your smile widening just a fraction. “Yes,” you affirm, keeping your voice light but steady. “He’s long admired your work.”

Durand’s eyes flick to Jimin briefly, before shifting back to you. He takes a step closer, his attention narrowing in on you as if he’s weighing your words. “And what, exactly, does Mr. Park admire about my work?” he asks, voice soft but loaded with expectation.

Your breath catches, and for a brief moment, your confidence falters.

You glance over at Jimin, your heart pounding as his eyes meet yours full of caution, distrust still swimming in their depths. He’s waiting to see if you’ll pull this off.

You clear your throat and translate the question, keeping your tone casual. “He wants to know what you admire about his work.”

Jimin’s jaw tenses, but he nods, quickly collecting himself before launching into an impassioned explanation about Durand’s innovative designs, his unique ability to push boundaries while keeping things elegant and timeless.

His voice gains momentum as he speaks, the intensity in his tone surprising you.

You translate every word back to Durand, keeping your voice fluid, your body angled just enough to include both men without shutting anyone out.

The conversation between them flows for a few minutes, tension easing with every exchanged word. Durand, once guarded, seems to relax, his posture softening as genuine intrigue lights up his face.

Chae-Won, however, is left in the dark, her lips tight, watching the exchange unfold without understanding a single word.

Her eyes dart from Jimin to Durand to you, her jealousy and frustration clear in every line of her body, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

After a few moments, Durand’s eyes brighten with excitement, his handsome face lighting up in a way that almost makes you forget how intimidating he was just minutes ago. “We can arrange a meeting,” he declares, his voice rich with anticipation. “Tomorrow, perhaps?”

You smile, translating the offer to Jimin, who exhales visibly, relief washing over his features. He shoots you a grateful look that almost feels like a breakthrough, his tension finally giving way to something softer.

“He’s ready for a follow-up meeting,” you inform him, keeping your voice steady despite the pulse of excitement thrumming through you.

“Perfect,” Jimin responds, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. He turns to Chae-Won, who is still fuming silently beside you. “Shall we say tomorrow?” he asks her, his voice lighter now, almost teasing.

Chae-Won forces a nod, her expression tight, her words stiff. “Certainly.”

You confirm the arrangement with Durand, your words flowing effortlessly, and just as you’re about to step back, Durand’s gaze lands on you, lingering a moment too long.

“Will you be there to translate?” he asks, his voice softer, filled with a hint of something warmer. The edges of his lips curl into a faint smile as his eyes search yours for reassurance. It’s clear now he’s taken a liking to you.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders as Monsieur Durand’s smile falters.

The warmth in his eyes cools, replaced by a sharp disappointment that cuts through the air like a knife. You hadn’t meant to let him down, but the reality of your position was inescapable.

"I'm not a senior staff member," you admit softly, trying to cushion the blow, but the effect is immediate.

His expression tightens, his frustration surfacing as he glances toward Chae-Won with a look that could slice through glass.

"You're not leaving me with this idiot, are you?" he whispers under his breath, the words dripping with disdain. His gaze darts between you and her, as if weighing his options and finding them severely lacking.

The guilt sinks deeper into your chest, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling the tension radiating from both men.

"I'm sorry," you offer, your voice soft but sincere. "I don’t have the authority to take over." You wince internally.

Durand’s jaw clenches. His defiance flares up, and he shakes his head in frustration. "Then I refuse to proceed," he declares, the fire in his eyes unmistakable.

He stands tall, the tension in his stance radiating from him as he crosses his arms, digging in his heels. He’s not someone who backs down easily, and right now, he’s digging in for a fight.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to keep calm even as anxiety prickles at your spine. "He doesn’t want Chae-Won to be the translator," you relay the message to Jimin, carefully neutral in tone.

Jimin lets out an exasperated sigh, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "Of course he doesn’t," he mutters under his breath, eyes flashing with irritation.

He glances at Chae-Won, who is doing her best to keep a composed face, though you can see the cracks forming in her usual icy exterior. She’s not used to being dismissed, and this must sting.

Jimin turns back to you, his eyes narrowing as he weighs his options. His frustration is palpable, his voice carrying that edge of irritation that always prickles under your skin. "Looks like you’ll have to do it," he says, his tone sharp but resigned.

He knows there’s no other way, even if it means relying on you.

The annoyance in his voice hurts, like you’re nothing more than a necessary evil, a thorn in his side.

You pause, letting the tension settle around you for a moment. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, but you nod, stepping forward into the role you hadn’t expected to take.

"Fine," you say, meeting Jimin’s gaze, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. You straighten your shoulders, ready to prove yourself once again, even if he doesn’t fully believe in you.

Monsieur Durand watches the exchange with cautious interest, his eyes now fixed on you. "Very well," he says, his voice low but approving. "Let’s proceed."

You feel Jimin’s eyes on you, a silent acknowledgment of what’s at stake.

For a brief second, you can almost sense the walls between you cracking. But it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by the reality of the situation.

This is still a job, a moment of opportunity hanging by a thread and now, all eyes are on you to make sure it doesn’t snap.

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

If you enjoyed this chapter and would like to support my work, please consider buying me a coffee! You might also find a little teaser of an upcoming one shot

If you want tagging in my fics please make sure you have your age somewhere on your bio, I block ageless and blank profiles

[kifinally]

Serendipity | Chapter Six

Link to Chapter index here

Pairing : Jimin x afab! reader

Summary : In Paris, Y/N meets Jimin, a free-spirited traveller. Their love blossoms, but Jimin suddenly vanishes. Heartbroken, Y/N returns to Seoul and becomes a fashion editor. Fate twists as Jimin reappears as her demanding boss. Y/N must navigate their past, uncover the truth, and decide if she can trust him again.

Genre : slow burn, angsty, CEO Boss Jimin au,

Words Count : 1.8k

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

m.list | K-pop Shop | ☕

Emerging from the restaurant, your mind swirled like a tornado, Taehyung’s revelations slamming into you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for.

The early afternoon sun was relentless, beating down on your skin as if it were trying to sear the truth into you.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, your fingers trembling as you took a slow, unsteady breath, eyes scanning the chaotic street without truly seeing it.

People moved around you fast, absorbed in their lives so unaware of the turmoil unravelling inside of you. A pang of envy gripped you tight. How could everything just… keep going?

You glanced at your watch, barely registering the time, just past eleven. Your stomach was in knots, your feet suddenly carrying you forward even though you had nowhere to go.

You needed to walk, needed to move, hoping that the physical action would loosen the emotional tangle constricting your chest.

Your thoughts raced as you walked, one colliding into the next, too fast, too overwhelming.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling anymore, let alone which emotion to trust. Was it relief because it was Jimin? Or was it devastation because this Jimin didn’t know you didn’t remember you?

You felt your throat tighten, and you pressed your hand to your chest as if that could somehow calm the storm raging there. As if it could keep your heart from breaking all over again.

The path along the Han River stretched out ahead, offering a welcome escape.

The soft breeze teased your hair, brushing your skin in a way that was meant to soothe, but you felt nothing.

The world blurred people, sights, sounds all of it fading as you focused on the steady hum of the water hitting the riverbank. The calm was an illusion, though, because inside you, everything was falling apart.

Your chest constricted, a nauseating pressure forming under your ribs, rising like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under.

You weren’t even sure when you sat down on a bench along the river. The weight of your body pressing into the cool seat barely registered as your mind replayed Taehyung’s words—accident, memory loss, just a fling.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill creeping down your spine despite the heat of the day. It wasn’t just a fling.

You’d known it the moment Jimin smiled at you for the first time, the way his eyes softened, how his laughter had become your favourite sound. The shame of ever doubting that gnawed at you, bitter and relentless.

You inhaled a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed as you tried to ground yourself. The sounds of the city blended with the gentle lapping of the river, offering you a momentary escape, but not enough.

Not enough to stop the tears that burned behind your eyelids. You bit down on your lip to stifle the sob threatening to break free, but your body betrayed you a choked sound escaped, and your hand flew to cover your mouth.

The riverbank was mercifully empty. No one would witness your tears.

Taehyung’s words echoed again in your head, cutting deeper each time. “Think of it as just a fling.” Your heart twisted painfully. How could Taehyung—anyone—dismiss it so easily?

But maybe he didn’t understand the way Jimin had made you feel seen, like every glance between you held the weight of something more. Something real. God, it wasn’t about you.

It was never about you. It was his pain, his suffering. His lost memories. And yet it crushed you all the same.

You squeezed your eyes tighter, willing the tears to stop, but the sobs came harder now, breaking through the thin dam of composure you had left.

Each one racked your body, silent but violent, as you clutched at your chest, feeling the ache deepen. He didn’t abandon you not on purpose. But that didn’t stop the wound from feeling raw, like it had been freshly ripped open.

Your mind screamed at the injustice of it all. He could have died. And you would have never known. Your breath came in shallow gasps as the nausea returned, coiling in the pit of your stomach like a serpent ready to strike.

Maybe it was better this way. Better he survived, even if it meant he’d forgotten you. But the thought of seeing him again of looking into those familiar eyes and finding no recognition, no love cut through you like a knife.

You wiped at your wet cheeks with the heel of your hand, hating the salty sting of tears, hating the helplessness of it all.

It would be easier if he were gone, if you could mourn him properly instead of this half-existence where he lived but didn’t know you. And worse, he didn’t like you now. He saw you as nothing more than an employee. Someone insignificant. A stranger.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, bitter and broken. You didn’t even have a job to return to now.

You cringed as the memory from this morning clawed its way back into your mind, making your stomach twist. Oh, dear god.

The way you’d spoken to him, blunt, accusatory, like you were a ticking bomb just waiting to go off.

You slapped a hand to your forehead, biting back a groan. No wonder he thought you were an unpredictable loose cannon. Who wouldn’t?

Amnesia, you thought, letting the word hang in your mind, mocking you. Out of all the possible reasons for his behaviour, it had never even crossed your radar. Of course, it hadn’t.

That was something straight out of a soap opera. You’d gone straight for the emotional outburst, no questions asked, like someone who’d lost all control. But that wasn’t your fault, right? Right? You’d been blindsided.

Your fingers clenched into tight fists at your sides. Did head trauma change personalities like that? Was that why he was so cold, so detached? The Jimin you knew had warmth in his eyes, kindness in his smile.

But now, he looked at you like you were beneath him, a mere inconvenience in his day. The memory of his sharp gaze made your throat tighten. This isn’t him. It can’t be.

You sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Whatever this was, you had to fix it.

You couldn’t lose your job, not now. If you lost this job, you’d lose Jimin all over again, and that was a pain you weren’t sure you could survive twice.

The financial burden of moving back from Paris hung over you like a dark cloud, suffocating. You’d built a life there, and now you were back in Seoul with a stack of bills and no safety net.

You needed this job more than ever.

-

Across the city, in his office, Jimin stared out at the sea of headlights snaking through the evening traffic below, the skyline flickering with lights that stretched far beyond his window.

His glass of whiskey hovered near his lips, and he took a slow sip, letting the smoky liquid roll across his tongue before swallowing, his gaze still fixed on the world outside.

The warmth of the drink spread through his chest, but it did nothing to calm the tension coiling tighter inside him.

He couldn’t shake it, you. He swirled the glass in his hand, watching the ice clink softly against the sides as his mind raced. What was it about you that had him on edge?

He scoffed softly. Maybe it was the bizarre questions you’d thrown at him this morning. The way you’d looked at him, so intense, so familiar. It was unnerving.

He wasn’t used to his employees being so emotionally…charged. Were they all like this? God, he hoped not.

He took another sip, his jaw tightening as his thoughts drifted back to the look in your eyes, as if you were searching for something in him.

Maybe you were some kind of stalker, he mused darkly. Do-Yun had run a background check on you, and nothing suspicious had come up, but still…

Jimin stared into his glass, considering the easiest option, firing you. He could end this headache before it got worse. But for some reason, he hadn’t.

Despite how much you irritated him, there was something holding him back. Something he couldn’t quite place.

-

Sitting on the bench by the river, the vibration of your phone broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.

You fished it out of your bag, glancing at the caller ID. Mom. Of course. You sighed and answered, forcing your voice to sound casual.

“Hello?” you greeted, trying to mask the exhaustion in your tone.

“Y/N, are you almost home? Your father just got back from his work trip,” your mom said, her voice warm but expectant, the way it always was when she needed something.

You winced, glancing around as if searching for an escape route. “Uh, yeah. I’m just waiting for the bus,” you lied, rising to your feet and scanning for the nearest stop.

“Did you talk to Jimin?” she asked suddenly, the question making your heart lurch. Your breath caught, your body freezing in place.

Talk to him? Oh, if only she knew.

“Not really,” you muttered, the lump in your throat making your voice tight. You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers clenching the phone a little too hard.

“Y/N, you need to talk to him. You two—”

“Mom, please,” you interrupted, frustration lacing your voice. “I don’t need this right now. It’s…complicated.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, the silence stretching until it became unbearable. “What do you mean by complicated?”

You sighed, dragging a hand through your hair. “I’ll explain later, okay? How is he?” you deflected, desperate to change the subject.

“He’s fine. A little tired from a long day, but he’s resting now,” she answered, sounding distracted. You knew she wasn’t done with the Jimin topic, but for now, she let it go.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” you said quickly before ending the call.

Twenty minutes later, you arrived at your parents' house, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones.

Your mom greeted you at the door, her eyes softening when she saw your weary expression. She pulled you into a gentle hug, and for a brief moment, you let yourself lean into her warmth, closing your eyes.

“Go freshen up, sweetie. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” she murmured, rubbing your back. You nodded, giving her a small smile before heading down the hall toward your room.

Opening the door, you heard it, a soft, gurgling sound followed by a string of babbling that never failed to make your heart skip.

The moment you stepped inside the dimly lit room, the world outside seemed to vanish. You reached for the lamp on the dresser, the soft glow filling the room, casting warmth over the scene in front of you.

His wide eyes met yours, sparkling with mischief and innocence. The moment he saw you, a grin spread across his face, showing off the few teeth he’d recently sprouted.

"Hi, baby," you breathed, feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away in the presence of his joy. "Mommy’s home."

---

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

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[kifinally]

Oh this was freaking good! The sexual tension when they kissed *chefs kiss*

Everything You Need Is Right Here

Pairing : Yoongi x female reader

Summary : Yoongi always the knight in shining armour, always there when you need him.

Genre : Friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, mentions of alcohol, MDNI

**Disclaimer: All characters in this story are completely fictional, and do not represent the real personalities of any of the BTS members.

You slid into the passenger seat, fingers trembling as they struggled with the seatbelt. The smooth click of the buckle should’ve been satisfying, but the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin swallowed any sense of accomplishment.

"Thanks for coming with me," you murmured, sneaking a glance at Yoongi. Your voice wavered, barely audible over the car's steady hum. Your fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on your thigh, a habit you couldn't quite shake.

Yoongi's eyes flicked to you, amusement curving his lips, but concern lingered in his gaze. "You think I'd let you meet a stranger alone?"

His tone was light, but the protective edge was unmistakable. "You're stuck with me until we know he's not a serial killer."

There was a calm that came with having him by your side. Not that you needed protecting exactly, but there was something comforting about Yoongi’s quiet presence, his steady, no-nonsense way of grounding you without ever making you feel like you needed saving.

Tonight was a big deal. Not life-altering or earth-shattering, but big in the way that stepping into something new always is.

After weeks of chatting with Jihoon, you were finally going to meet him in person.

The texts had flowed easily, his banter sharp, his humour aligning perfectly with yours.

He was the type who seemed confident but not arrogant, the kind of guy who felt safe but with just enough edge to keep things interesting. And yet, meeting in person always added a layer of unpredictability.

As Yoongi pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights blurred by, their glow painting the inside of the car in soft shades of yellow and orange.

You found yourself staring out the window, watching the world rush past in a haze of movement and colour.

The excitement of meeting someone new mingled with the quiet hum of caution, but it didn’t overwhelm you.

It wasn’t the same panicked feeling you used to get with the idea of dating. It was more like…curiosity.

Like stepping into a room you’d never been in before, wondering what might be waiting on the other side of the door.

Your thoughts flickered back to your last relationship, and you felt the familiar pull of old memories, but this time, they didn’t sting the way they used to.

You had already done the hard work of letting that go, of peeling back the layers of hurt and figuring out who you were again without the weight of someone else’s neglect pressing on your shoulders.

He hadn’t been a bad guy. That much you could admit now. But he had been absent in ways that mattered—present physically but never really there.

You could still see him, hunched over his computer, lost in his own world, while you waited for a moment of recognition that never came.

The slow drift of becoming invisible, of watching the person you loved choose distraction over connection, had worn you down over time.

But those days felt distant now, like something you could look at with detachment, the way you’d glance at an old photograph and think, Oh, yeah, I remember that.

And then there was Yoongi. Always Yoongi. He’d been the one to sit with you in the aftermath, his quiet support like a soft anchor, keeping you steady when you thought you might float away.

He never pushed you, never tried to rush you through the healing process. Instead, he was just there, letting you figure things out in your own time.

That’s why tonight felt different. You weren’t going into it looking to fill some void or prove something to yourself.

You’d already done the work. Now, you were just…open. Open to possibility. Open to seeing where things might go.

And so, with a tangled mess of hope and desperation, you did it. You signed up for that dating app, staring at the screen longer than necessary, your finger hesitating above the "submit" button. Were you chasing something real? Maybe.

Or maybe it was just the need to feel something. Anything. A distraction.

A good fuck to remind you that you were still alive, that your heart still beat beneath all that numbness. Jihoon seemed like a good place to start—his profile full of easy charm. Athletic, funny, daring in ways you’d never been.

Yoongi pulled into the car park, the low hum of the engine fading as he cut the ignition.

The silence that followed felt heavy, like it had weight, pressing down on your chest. His eyes turned to you, dark and thoughtful, his fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel before he broke the silence.

“You ready?” His voice was soft but edged with caution, slicing through the haze of your swirling thoughts like a blade.

Your mouth was dry. You nodded, even though you weren't sure if you were convincing either of you. “Yeah,” you managed, though it came out barely a whisper, and you felt the lie of it stick in your throat.

A mix of excitement and dread surged through you in waves, each crashing harder than the last.

Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, his brow furrowed as if he was searching your face, waiting for you to change your mind.

He always had this way of looking at you, like he saw more than you were willing to show, and it unsettled you sometimes.

When your hand finally moved to the door handle, his eyes flickered, a sigh escaping his lips, almost imperceptible, but you caught it.

The plan was simple. He’d stay back, keep an eye on Jihoon, just in case. A quiet protector from a nearby booth, ready to step in if anything went wrong. It had been his idea when you had told him of your date, and to be honest you felt relief when he did.

You stepped out of the car first, and the cool night air hit you like a splash of cold water, snapping you out of your tangled thoughts, if only for a moment.

You straightened your back, forcing yourself to walk toward the bar, but each step felt heavy, like dragging yourself through mud.

You could feel Yoongi’s presence behind you, the soft sound of his door closing, his footsteps falling in sync with yours. He didn’t say a word, but you felt him.

What you didn't know, was that his eyes roved over your outfit, feeling a tightness in his chest, wishing he was the one taking you on that date. You looked incredible, but you always did. He swallows the feeling back down, concentrating on keeping you safe.

You had taken extra time getting ready tonight, more than you’d like to admit. Your outfit—carefully chosen, your hair—perfectly done.

You wanted to feel confident, wanted to feel like this wasn’t some mistake. But now, walking ahead of Yoongi, all that carefully crafted armour felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

Inside, the bar was alive with noise. The hum of conversation and the clatter of glasses rang out, mixing with the scent of beer and something fried.

You tried to steady your breathing, your fingers brushing against the worn wood of the table as you slid into a booth near the back.

It wasn’t Jihoon's presence you feared—it was the unknown. The vulnerability of sitting there, waiting for someone you barely knew.

You felt exposed, like the anticipation itself was pulling you apart piece by piece.

Yoongi slipped in quietly, taking a seat a few tables away, his back to the wall so he could see everything. His eyes found you, just like they always did.

Even across the room, you felt his attention land on you, a brief moment of connection before he looked away, pretending like he wasn’t watching.

His jaw clenched as he glanced around the bar, and his fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the table.

You didn't notice the way his eyes kept drifting back to you, the way his chest tightened. He hated it. Hated seeing you like this—nervous, uncertain, waiting for someone else.

But he forced the feeling down, pushed it deep inside where it couldn’t surface. He wasn’t supposed to feel that. He didn’t have the right to, you were just friends, you had never seen him like that.

You smiled nervously at Yoongi across the room, your fingers fiddling with the edge of the menu as the waitress approached. You ordered a drink, your voice a little too bright, a little too eager to fill the silence.

As she walked away, you glanced down at your phone—two minutes until Jihoon was supposed to arrive. The seconds crawled, each one dragging out longer than the last, stretching thin.

You gnawed on your bottom lip, eyes flicking to the window like you might catch sight of him, coming down the sidewalk.

Your breath hitched with every person that walked by, but the street remained stubbornly empty.

Ten minutes. Still no sign of him. The sinking feeling in your gut was hard to ignore now, creeping in like a shadow, growing heavier with every tick of the clock.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself not to overthink it. But your heart betrayed you, the sting settling in, raw and real.

You glanced over at Yoongi, his dark eyes already on you, watching with that familiar blend of concern and protectiveness that had become second nature to him.

You didn’t want Yoongi to worry—he’d done enough of that lately. Always stepping in, always making sure you were okay, even when you weren’t.

But deep down, you couldn't shake the bad feeling in your gut about your date.

Another five minutes slipped by, and Yoongi’s patience snapped. He slid into the seat across from you, his presence solid, grounding, but there was an edge to him now.

“Has he even texted you?” Yoongi’s tone was sharp, his tongue pressing against his cheek.

You shook your head, feeling smaller, deflated with every second that passed. "No," you whispered, the word so small it almost disappeared between the noise of the bar and the hammering of your pulse.

But then your phone buzzed on the table, and hope, foolish as it was, flared up in your chest. Your heart leapt, and you grabbed the phone quickly, a rush of adrenaline surging through you.

“Oh! He messaged…” The words tumbled out in a rush. But the second you read it, all that hope vanished, replaced by the sting of disappointment.

Your breath caught in your throat as you threw the phone back onto the table, the lump that had been forming there now impossible to ignore.

“He’s not coming,” you croaked, your voice cracking on the words.

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, the muscles there twitching as he stared down at the phone. Without a word, he reached for your phone, his movements swift, purposeful. You didn’t even have a chance to protest before you heard the quick tap of his fingers flying across the screen.

Yoongi tossed the phone back onto the table, his face hard. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s fine,” you tried to laugh it off, though your voice wobbled, the sound shaky and hollow. “He probably showed up, took one look at me, and ran off.”

The words tasted bitter as soon as they left your mouth, an attempt at humour that fell painfully flat. You winced at the sound of your own voice, at how small it felt.

Yoongi’s eyes flashed, his voice low, hard. “It is not fine,” he snapped, the intensity in his voice making you blink. “That asshole has no idea what he’s just missed out on.”

Without warning, Yoongi stood, his expression softened, though his eyes were still dark with anger.

“Come on,” he said, his voice gentler now, but still laced with that same fierce protectiveness. He stretched out his hand toward you, “I’m taking you home, and we’re getting drunk.”

----

You're sitting on the living room floor of your apartment, legs stretched out, the plush carpet soft beneath you.

The room feels warm, almost too warm, as if the alcohol pulsing through your veins is radiating heat.

Your cheeks are flushed, partly from the drinks but mostly from the embarrassment that's still twisting inside you. You can’t shake the humiliation of the night, the way it clings to your skin, making you feel small.

“I feel so humiliated, and for you to witness it?” you blurt out, your voice a little too loud, wavering with frustration.

The words feel jagged as they leave your mouth, slicing through the stillness of the room.

You pour yourself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing unevenly into the glass. You take a long gulp, the burn of alcohol doing nothing to ease the ache of the night.

Yoongi’s sitting on the couch behind you, his body leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you, burning holes into the back of your head.

“I’m just… doomed to be a single woman for all eternity.” The words tumble out, defeated sigh as you slump further back against the couch.

The self-pity flows freely now, loosened by the alcohol, and you don't care how pathetic you sound. You just want to drown in it, let it swallow you whole.

"That's bullshit."

Yoongi’s voice slices through your words, sharp and cutting, freezing you mid-sentence. The word hangs in the air, thick with a tension that sends a shockwave through your chest.

He drags a hand through his hair, tugging harder than necessary, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

His body is a live wire as he leans back on the couch, movements tight, controlled. But his eyes—dark and unblinking—lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze sends a flush of heat through your skin, pooling low in your stomach.

“Any guy would be lucky to be your boyfriend.” His voice is lower now, more serious. The casual tone you’re used to is gone, replaced by something raw. “If you were my girlfriend, I’d fucking worship the ground you walked on.”

The confession hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. You blink, pulse stuttering as the room suddenly feels too small, too charged.

His words hang between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to think about anything but the way his eyes haven’t left yours, the way your whole body hums in response.

You stare at him, unsure if you heard him right. Yoongi holds your gaze, unwavering, his face serious—no smirk, no teasing look.

Just a heavy silence that weighs down the room, crackling with a tension you hadn’t noticed before. The kind of tension that makes your pulse quicken, your palms sweat, a flutter stirring low in your stomach.

He’s just your friend. But you’d have to be blind not to notice how ridiculously hot he is, the kind of hot that makes heads turn when he walks into a room.

And maybe you’ve wondered, just for a fleeting second, what it would be like if things were different. If there was more between you.

His pouty lips, how they would feel on yours, you'd heard rumours about his tongue technology, and you'd often touched yourself to the image of you coming on his tongue.

The thought sticks longer than it should, and you shake yourself out of it, blinking fast to erase the images flipping through your head.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice quieter than you expected, one hand rubbing the back of your neck as you look anywhere but at him.

You can’t look at him. Not right now. Your throat feels tight, and you’re way too aware of how close he is, the space between you charged like a live wire.

You’ve got no idea what to say, no clue how to sort through the mess in your head. He’s just being a good friend, you remind yourself. He’s always been that guy, trying to make you feel better. That’s all.

The silence stretches out, thick with unspoken things. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to stand.

You need to break whatever this is, before it spins out of control. “It’s late. We should get some sleep,” you say, holding out your hands to him, trying to keep things light, normal.

Yoongi grabs your hands, and the moment he stands, the force of his pull throws him slightly off balance. Before you can react, he stumbles forward, and you instinctively take a step back.

You don’t get far. Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, and Yoongi is right there, too close. His hand shoots out, bracing himself, caging you in with a quiet intensity that steals your breath.

His palm cradles the back of your head before you even feel the impact, fingers threading gently through your hair, and suddenly, he’s so close. The heat radiating from his body engulfs you, making the air between you feel heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Your breath catches, chest tightening as you become acutely aware of him—his chest just barely grazing yours, his breath warm against your cheek. The scent of him, familiar and intoxicating, makes your pulse race, heart hammering in your chest like it’s trying to break free.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, rough, the concern in it making your skin tingle. The hand at your head lingers, protective, thumb lightly brushing against the nape of your neck. His other hand is planted firmly beside your head, trapping you in the best kind of way.

You try to nod, but the words catch in your throat. "Yeah…" It's barely a whisper, shaky and uncertain, like you're not sure what you're agreeing to. Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch, drawn to the warmth, the safety, him.

Your pulse is racing, the air between you charged with something electric, something neither of you are acknowledging but both of you can feel. It’s palpable, like a magnetic pull, drawing you closer.

His gaze drops to your lips, lingering just a fraction too long, and the air around you crackles with tension.

His eyes flicker, a hesitation there, like he's at war with himself, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something hungrier, bolder.

The shift in his expression sends a ripple of heat through you, pooling low in your belly, making your knees tremble.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, struggling to find control, but all you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your lips, the way his body is just… there. Close. Too close. Not close enough.

"Yoongi," you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling with anticipation, with need, your heart pounding so loudly you wonder if he can hear it.

He doesn’t reply. Not with words, at least. Instead, he moves with an unhurried grace, like he's trying not to spook you. His breath is shallow, but steady as he leans in, head tilting ever so slightly.

Your heart lurches as his lips hover, an excruciatingly delicate inch from yours. His hesitation is palpable, like he's giving you a final chance to pull away.

His gaze flickers to your mouth, then back to your eyes, a silent plea—Do you want this?

You don’t move. Can’t. Your entire body buzzes in response to him, and the absence of your retreat speaks louder than any word could.

The first brush of his lips is feather-light, a whisper of a touch that sends a shockwave through your entire being.

Your breath catches, and you feel his exhale warm against your skin. The kiss lingers for a heartbeat, then another, before you pull back, suddenly overwhelmed by the thundering pulse in your ears.

"Yoongi," you murmur, your voice a shaky contradiction of want and restraint, "I think you're a little drunk." The words tumble out, an attempt to anchor yourself in the chaos swirling through your head.

He shakes his head, his thumb still tracing slow, torturous circles on your cheek. His gaze sharp and steady locks onto yours. "No," he says, his voice low, firm, a quiet intensity burning beneath each syllable. "I'm not."

Your gaze drops to his lips. The magnetic pull between you is undeniable, stronger than the caution still flickering at the edges of your mind.

You lean in, ever so slowly, until your nose brushes his in a teasing nuzzle. His breath hitches, and you can feel the tremor in his chest as it presses against yours.

His body is taut with anticipation, every muscle tensed like he’s holding himself back.

You pause, hovering just a breath away, searching his eyes for any shred of doubt. But all you find is an all-consuming desire. It reflects in his dark gaze, in the way his hands tighten possessively at your waist, tugging you closer.

Your lips crash into his, the kiss a furious spark igniting a wildfire of pent-up need. It’s hungry, desperate, both of you burning in the flame you’ve been circling for far too long.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, into that one searing moment.

Your hands find his hair, fingers threading through the silken strands as you pull him closer, deeper, needing more.

The heat between you is unbearable, a dizzying conflagration that lights up every inch of your skin. He groans softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, and the last slivers of hesitation dissolve as you let yourself fall into the fire.

You melted against him, body pressing tightly to his as the kiss deepened, yours breaths ragged with desire. Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response.

His lips trail down your neck, slow and deliberate, each touch lighting up your skin like a fuse.

Then, he nips at the tender spot, and it sends a sharp, delicious jolt through you. You can’t help it, the gasp slips out, followed by a soft, helpless whimper.

Your body reacts on its own, arching toward him, desperate for more, while the sensation spreads, warm and electric. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breathing shallow and uneven.

His warm hand gently slides under your top giving you enough time to stop him should you not want to go any further, but you only urge him on with your kisses. His fingertips trail up to your breast, gently cupping it, and rolling the bud of your nipple between his fingers 

Your thighs rub together in search of some kind of friction, to help with the wetness now dampening them.

Removing his hand, he reaches under your t-shirt and pulls it up over your head to gain access to your breasts. Groaning  in satisfaction at the sight of them. "Shit, they're perfect, just like I knew they would be"

He takes a nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the bud, his other hand kneading your other breast. Your breath hitches, "Oh..fuck...Yoongi please...." you half-moan, half beg, tangling your fingers in his hair to tug him closer.

"Please, what?  Tell me what you want me to do?" his voice comes out almost strained with desire.

" I need you, inside me" you plead, your mind becoming too light, too hazy with desire as the blood pounded in your clit, and Yoongi filled your senses.

Without a word, Yoongi’s hands find your waist, his grip firm but gentle, as he spins you around in one fluid motion.

The sudden movement makes your breath catch, and before you can process what's happening, he’s guiding you back, your body sinking into the soft cushions of the couch.

His touch lingers, sending sparks through your skin, every nerve hyper-aware of his proximity.

Clothes begin to fall away, discarded in a hurried blur, until there’s nothing left but skin and heat and the steady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears.

Getting to his knees, he pulls you forward so your ass is on the edge of the seat.

"Spread your legs for me" he tells you, waiting for you to do so. He Inhales deeply, a low guttural sound expels from him as he takes in the sight of your pussy and the glistening slick of your arousal.

"Fuck...." he grunts, his hand fisting his erection, now leaking with pre-cum.

Using his thumb he rubs your clit in slow lazy circles, watching for your reaction Soft moans erupt from you, that only further ignite the blood pounding in his hard cock.

Slowly, he lowers himself between your legs. Hands holding your legs wide open. You anticipate his mouth but still gasp when you feel it on you, licking a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit, groaning when he tastes you. 

"Oh!" You exclaim, hips bucking up to meet his face, silently begging for more. He chuckles darkly, the vibrations sending shivers through your entire body. Yoongi hooks his arms under your thighs, shifting you higher as he buries his face into your core. His tongue circles your clit, flicking it back and forth at a such a speed that you almost begin to see stars.

It was better than you had imagined, he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. Immediately you tighten around it as he presses against the sensitive spot inside, making you gasp and squirm in need. "You're so tight" he groans, his deep bassy voice sending vibrations through your clit.

Adding another, he scissors you with his fingers, Yoongi's name falls from your lips as he watches, eyes dark with molten desire.

Leaning forward his lips press against yours, kissing you softly as he picks up the speed, leaving you writhing in pleasure. "That's it, you're taking these fingers so well beautiful" he coos.

The heat in your belly begins to tighten its coil, your eyes squeeze shut as you concentrate on the pleasure building. "Oh god Yoongi, I'm so close!" you gasp.

"Come for me baby" He demands, as he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking gently, and it's all that's need for your orgasm to crash over you.

Yoongi laps up your juices, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, prolonging your climax. "Fuck, you taste so good" he pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking the clean.

You whimpered, "Please Yoongi...." pussy clenching at nothing as you watch him.

"What's the matter baby? What do you need?" he asked with a smirk, grinding his cock against your folds.

"Need you, wanna be full of you" you gasped as you felt him catch at your entrance.

"Is that so?" he murmured, brow cocking with a shit eating grin, teasing you with just the tip.

Pausing for a second, he grits his teeth as he slowly pushes his way in. He groaned as your wet, raw heat surrounded him. He drew his hips back and then slowly pumped them forward again, giving you time to get used to the feel of him, pussy stretching around him.

"Do you know how often I thought about fucking you? How much I've wanted you." he grunts between thrusts.

His eyes close, head falling back concentrating on the feel of your warm silky walls.

"Same! Wanted you too! " You gasp as his blunt tip hits your cervix. He grabs your hips, shoving deeply into you, causing you both to moan out loud.

"Yoongi....." is all you can manage to say, your eyes rolling back when he snapped his hips hard.

"I know baby, feels so good." he grunts.

The sound of skin on skin slapping and heavy breathing, echoes around the room. Heat prickles at your skin, a flush spreading across your face and chest. His eyes fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

He leans down and suckles on a nipple, slowing his pace down. Your nails scratch lightly at his back making him hiss.

“Oh God, Yoongi! Please! ” you gasped as you clung to him, you buried your face in the crook of his neck.  

He sat back his heels, hooking your knees over his arms – shifting, tilting, testing until his dick hit the inside of your pussy, making you curse and moan out loud.

"Fuck, look at this messy pussy. Taking my cock so well kitten" he bit his lip as he watched as your juices coated his cock.

He thrusts again, the angle hitting the right spot and you can feel yourself heading towards another orgasm. "I'm so close!" you whined.

He cursed when he felt you clench around him, "Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He encourages, fingers tighten around your hips in a grip, that would surely leave bruises there afterwards and pulling you down to meet his hard thrusts.

Your orgasm slams into you, you moan his name over and over, thighs trembling.

"Fuck, y/n " He exhaled harshly, his thrusts getting less regular as he grew closer to his orgasm. "Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside, I'm on the pill, it's fine" you rush out, desperate to be filled by him.

His hips jerk one final time, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he empties himself inside you, groaning your name.

A few seconds later, he stills, slowly pulling himself out of you, wincing at the oversensitivity in his cock, flopping over on to his back. Silence fills the room as you both try to gather yourselves.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on you, you glance at him, shy, unsure of what to say or do.

Without a word, he reaches out, his hand moving gently as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch is slow, like he’s savouring the moment, and it sends a delicate shiver through you, a reminder of everything that just happened.

“You doing okay?” His voice is low, hushed, as if the quiet of the room is sacred.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, your lips curving into a soft smile. “More than okay.”

His eyes don’t leave yours, not for a second. The corner of his mouth tugs into a small, knowing smile. He leans in lips brushing yours, a slow, tender kiss. It’s gentle, but it sends a ripple through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

When he pulls back, just enough to look at you again, his eyes are darker, filled with something deeper than before. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and his voice drops to a whisper. "Good," he murmurs, his words barely audible, but you feel them all the same. "Because this is just the beginning for us."

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

[kifinally]

He’s so beautiful 😍

jesus christ.

[240921] | san, milan fashion week 2024.

[kifinally]

hyunjin on bubble: yang jeongin is cute

[kifinally]

The Make-Up Artist - Chapter Eleven

Link to Chapter One and Masterlist here

Pairing : Hoseok x afab! reader

Summary : Y/N finds herself thrust into the role of Hoseok's makeup artist, a position she never dreamed of having. As she navigates the challenges of working with a BTS member, she discovers a side of him that's completely opposite to his cheerful public persona. Can she overcome their initial animosity and find common ground, or will their relationship be doomed from the start?

Warning : MDNI

The meeting finished without any further complications, but you couldn’t shake the heaviness that lingered between you and Hoseok.

There was no tension in the air, just an odd, distant silence as he carefully avoided looking at you. He didn’t seem angry, but there was a sense of disappointment hidden beneath his composed demeanour.

You needed to talk to him. You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, nothing had happened between the two of you, but the awkwardness and misunderstanding gnawed at you. You didn't want Hoseok to get the wrong impression because of Woo-sik.

As the meeting finally ended and people began filing out, you hurried after Hoseok, hoping to catch him. But just as you were about to speak, Mr. Bang’s voice called out to you.

"Y/N, a word please."

You glanced back toward Hoseok, who was already walking briskly down the hall, not sparing you a second glance. His back was rigid, his steps quick. Your heart sank a little, but you turned and stepped back into the room to speak with Mr. Bang.

"I'm sorry for causing a scene before" you rush out, bowing deeply again to him. He waves a hand. 

He gave you a sympathetic smile as the room cleared out. "Y/N, no need to apologize about earlier. I could see it was a shock seeing him again. I don’t need to know the details, but if you need help navigating this, you can always come to me."

You nodded, managing a grateful smile, though your thoughts were already elsewhere. After a quick bow, you hurried out, determined to find Hoseok and explain yourself.

You eventually found him in the practice room, alone, lost in his own world as he danced to the beat of the music.

For a few moments, you stood at the door, watching him move with his usual grace, unsure of how to break the silence. You didn’t want to interrupt, but you couldn’t leave things hanging like this either.

Finally, Hoseok noticed you standing there. He walked over to the speaker and paused the music, wiping sweat from his forehead but still avoiding your gaze.

"I owe you an explanation," you started, stepping closer to him.

"You don’t owe me anything," he muttered, his voice low as he unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a slow sip. His eyes remained fixed on the floor.

"No," you insisted gently, "I do."

He didn’t reply, but you could feel his frustration simmering beneath the surface. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall as you began. "Lee Woo-Sik and I... It was an arranged marriage when I was nineteen. My parents didn’t support my dream of becoming a makeup artist. They said it wasn’t a real career, that I wouldn’t make anything of myself. His family had money, influence, and my parents thought it was a good match for their reputation."

Hoseok’s expression remained unreadable, but you saw the slightest shift in his posture—he was listening, even if he wasn’t looking at you.

"I didn’t want it. Neither did Woo-Sik, but my parents promised that if I went through with it, they’d pay for my training at a prestigious makeup artist school. So I did it." You paused, exhaling slowly as the memories came flooding back. "I left two weeks after the wedding. I couldn’t handle it, and he didn’t care enough to stop me."

"When did you last see him?" Hoseok asked quietly, his voice lacking the usual warmth.

“Nine years ago,” you admit, your voice quieter than before. “I moved to another town and cut ties with my family after they disowned me.” You swallow, the weight of those memories pulling at you. “Woo-Sik didn’t even bother to find me.”

Hoseok’s eyes stay locked on yours, his expression softening, but you feel the need to keep talking, to explain everything.

“I thought I was done with all of it,” you continue, the words coming out in a rush now. “I’ve been trying to find a way to divorce him, but... it costs money.” You feel the tightness in your chest, remembering the hopelessness you’d felt for so long.

Hoseok frowns, his brow creasing in concern. “How much money?” he asks gently, his voice low as if he doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You shake your head slightly. “More than I had.” You let out a bitter laugh, glancing at the floor. “We’re not talking about some simple paperwork. In families like mine and Woo-Sik’s, everything is complicated—lawyers, settlements, appearances.” You pause, rubbing your hands together as if trying to ground yourself. “Getting a divorce from a family like his, especially after my own family cut me off, it’s... expensive. The whole process is designed to drag on, to keep control over people like me.”

The wealthy, you think to yourself, play by different rules. In Korea, families with money and power have ways of stretching out legal processes like divorce, making it a nightmare of paperwork, court hearings, and endless legal fees.

It wasn’t just about splitting up, it was about the reputation of the family. The longer they dragged things out, the more it ensured the family’s status stayed intact—and that came at a price you could never afford on your own.

“I didn’t even know where to start,” you confess, voice shaky. “I didn’t have the money for a lawyer, let alone one good enough to go against someone like Woo-Sik’s family. And they... they would never let me just walk away that easily. For them, it was all about appearances, reputation.” You pause, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “Even now, they would rather keep me tied to him than let a divorce go through quietly. And I couldn’t rely on my own family because they wanted nothing to do with me after I left.”

Hoseok listens in silence, his gaze soft but steady. He takes a step closer, his presence comforting even as you feel the weight of the situation settling in the air between you.

He finally looked at you, his expression softening slightly. "You never mentioned this."

"It’s not exactly something I go around telling people" You exhale shakily, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. “I thought I’d escaped it all, well enough to stay hidden from them until the right time” you admit, shaking your head.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, nodding to himself. "So, he just showed up today, and—"

"And made everything a thousand times more complicated than it needed to be," you finished for him. " I can’t believe he’s here, working on this project. I'm sorry for bringing drama."

He shook his head, still not quite meeting your eyes. "It’s not your fault. I just—" He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. "Should we get a different director for the MV?"

"No" you shake your head. " He's a good director from what I've seen of his work over the years.  I just need to speak with him, and sort this out" 

"You've not spoken to him yet?" Hoseok asks, his voice soft but curious. You shake your head, still fiddling nervously with the rings on your finger.

You notice him glance at them briefly, a flicker of something in his eyes that’s hard to read.

“No,” you admit, shifting from one foot to the other. “I wanted to speak to you first so you didn't misunderstand.”

Hoseok leans in slightly, a subtle frown on his face as he searches yours. "Why would you want to do that?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave, gentle yet probing.

The way he looks at you sends a wave of heat through your body. His gaze is intense, and for a moment, the space between you feels like it’s buzzing with energy.

Your mouth goes dry, and your heart pounds in your chest. You suddenly realise how close he is—so close that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

"I just wanted to," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes flicker away from his, unsure of what to say next, unsure of what you even want to say.

The words are stuck in your throat, your mind scrambling to make sense of the moment. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking with each breath, the atmosphere thick and charged.

For a second, it feels like he’s about to say something, something important.

His eyes hold yours, and you feel yourself drawn in, lost in the tension that’s been building between you for months now. He steps even closer, just as his lips part to speak.

But before anything else can happen, the door to the practice room swings open.

"There you are," Woo-Sik’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife, pulling you both back to reality.

You jerk back, startled, and Hoseok straightens up, his face instantly going neutral. Woo-Sik’s gaze moves between you and Hoseok, clearly sensing the shift in the room. His mouth tightens as his eyes land on you, but he keeps his expression composed.

"Y/N, we should talk," he says, his tone firm, though his eyes flick toward Hoseok again, giving him a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Hello," he adds, the word clipped, as if his focus is entirely on you.

The atmosphere changes in an instant, the charged energy evaporating as reality crashes back in.

Hoseok glances down at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, picking up on your hesitation to speak with Woo-Sik.

His smile is soft, reassuring, a gentle push for you to keep going. You can feel the warmth of it, even if you don’t share the sentiment. Still, you manage a nod, letting out a shallow breath.

"Fine," you say, though your voice comes out sharper than you intended, cutting the air between you and Woo-Sik.

He doesn’t react. Instead, Woo-Sik gestures for you to follow him, leading you into another room.

The door clicks shut behind you, the sound louder than it should be, or maybe that’s just the weight of this moment, pressing down on your chest. You swallow hard, trying to keep your breathing steady

“What do you want to say?” you huff, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the floor, anything to distract yourself from the discomfort curling inside you.

Woo-Sik doesn’t flinch. He just tilts his head, looking at you as though you’re an equation he’s trying to solve. "I hope we can be professional and work well together."

A sigh escapes you, heavy and impatient. You cast your eyes downward, pretending to inspect your shoes for some invisible flaw, anything to distance yourself from the conversation you don’t want to be having. "That depends on your answers to my questions."

Woo-Sik cocks his head, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth like this is some kind of game. “And those are?”

"Have you told my parents?" You ask it casually, but the weight behind it feels like a punch you’ve been holding back for years.

"That you're here?" He gives you a shrug like it’s nothing. "No, and I wouldn’t. I haven’t seen your parents in years anyway."

Your head snaps in confusion "What do you mean?"

Woo-Sik's voice lowers, eyes darkening with a mix of resentment and something else you can’t quite place "For one, I move around for work. And two, your parents aren’t exactly eager to show their faces after their daughter walked out of a high-profile arranged marriage." There’s a sharpness in his tone, one that cuts straight through you.

You let out a dry laugh, shrugging as though the weight of that accusation doesn’t sting. "That’s on them."

He laughs, the sound sharp and bitter. "It wasn’t exactly fun for me either," he says, voice low. "It might have been an arranged marriage, but it was still a marriage."

"I was tricked into it," you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You glare at him, your pulse racing in your throat, the heat rising in your chest.

“Were you?” His eyes glint with that familiar arrogance, the same arrogance that drove you to leave in the first place. He plants his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Deep down, you knew your parents weren’t going to pay for your tuition. You married me for another reason.”

"That’s a lie!" Your voice is sharp now, your hands curling into fists at your sides, the urge to hit something, anything, surging through you.

“Is it?” His smirk widens, and it’s infuriating. “I know you were in love with me. The way you used to follow me around, like a little lost puppy. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your breath catches in your throat. "I wasn’t," you reply, but the words come out weak, unconvincing.

He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "I married because it was my duty," he says, his voice heavy with arrogance. "I knew what it meant for our families to unite. My parents gave me hell for not trying harder to make it work. I didn’t think you’d be weak enough to leave after less than a year."

The arrogance in his tone ignites something fierce inside you. You feel the burn of it spreading through your chest, hot and furious.

"Actually, I was strong for leaving!" Your voice rises, fierce and unrelenting. "I had to give up everything, and I worked my ass off to get where I am today without anyone’s help. So don’t you dare call me weak!" You’re trembling now, your body taut with frustration and hurt, ready to stand toe-to-toe with him, even though he towers over you. You’re not backing down. Not this time.

Woo-Sik watches you, his expression shifting, something almost like respect flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you’re right," he says, after a long pause. His voice softens, though you’re not sure if it’s genuine or just calculated. "You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you. You’re not the little Y/N anymore."

There’s a smile on his face, and for once, it feels real.

But you’re too tired, too drained by this exhausting back-and-forth to care. You just stare at him, the fire inside you slowly dimming as the fatigue settles in.

"Does that ease your mind for work?" he asks, his tone now neutral, almost businesslike.

"Not quite," you reply, crossing your arms tighter, your voice firm despite the exhaustion creeping into your bones. "There’s still more we have to discuss. But in due time. For now, there’s one more thing I need to ask."

He lifts his chin, waiting. "Of course."

You take a deep breath, your hands trembling at your sides, but you force yourself to stand tall, to look him in the eye as you say the words that have been burning on your tongue for far too long.

"Give me my divorce.

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

[kifinally]

This Jin! I swear, I’m a feral trembling mess 🥵

[kifinally]

The fit. The hair. The man. 🙃